the birth and death of the day
by Sunny Daisy
Summary: AU "There's a war coming, Caroline." -the Forbes-Winchester blended family takes on the Apocalypse. Caroline/Klaus
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** TVD and Supernatural are not mine. Title is from Explosions in the Sky (who are amazing and wonderful and you should check them out).

**A/N: **Really, seriously, intensely AU/AH fic here. Hopefully the boundaries of this AU explain themselves in the story. It's set around early Supernatural S4 and the tail end of middle TVD S3. (If anything's not clear or confusing, please let me know).

**A/N 2:** If the Supernatural/TVD real worlds ever did cross, Dean would be 13 years older than Caroline (1979 vs. 1992) and Sam would be 9 years older than her (1983). But for this story, Sam is 6 years older (1986) and Dean is 8 years older (1984).

Also I've kind of smashed the timeline together so that most of the things that have happened in the Supernatural verse pre-S4 happened very quickly after each other (essentially, there's months in between Jess dying, John dying, Dean trading himself for Sam, etc., instead of years). **Finally**—in the first couple of episodes of Supernatural, Dean mentions it's been two years since he's seen Sam, so I'm going with that. This fic also relies on TVD's vamp mythology instead of Supernatural, so keep that in mind.

This all makes sense in my head, so I hope I'm explaining everything clearly. Please don't hesitate to tell me if something doesn't make sense, and I'll fix it or explain my intention.

**One last thing:** The prologue basically zooms through Supernatural S1-3 (and early parts of 4) and TVD S1-(most of) 3. It's mostly exposition and building relationships for the actual plot. Since this is happening in the past, the dialogue is in _italics_. Happy reading!

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**prologue**

Caroline Forbes really can't remember a time when her parents had been married, much less happy together. She knows the story—Bill Forbes had tearfully come out to Liz before Caroline could form complete words, and by the time she was toddling around on her own, they were separated.

What she does remember—vividly, in fact—was meeting John Winchester.

She's five, a knee-high bundle of blonde hair and giggles, and he towers over her. Caroline remembered being a little scared of him, of his dark hair and dark eyes and how he didn't really smile—the antithesis of Bill Forbes. But he has two boys, Dean and Sam; and she always cries when Elena and Bonnie have to go home, so maybe brothers won't be so bad. _And,_ Liz reminds her, stroking her hair, _you'll always be my baby_. So she cautiously accepts these new additions.

By the time she starts first grade at Mystic Falls Elementary, Liz announces that she is marrying John Winchester; and Caroline learns that it isn't that Dean doesn't like her—he's just thorny with _everyone_. Everyone except Sam, who eagerly slips into the role of big brother because (she learns later) he always wants to be just like Dean. _Dean is the best big brother ever, Caroline_, he tells her with big, serious eyes. She doesn't believe him, because _Sam_ is the best big brother ever and she follows him around faithfully.

(Not six months later, she and Dean bond over a fierce mutual love of pie, and Sam scowls at them, muttering something about _team cake_.)

…..

When she turns eight, she asks Liz why John takes so many long business trips. _Because, _Liz tells her, pushing some of the hair that had slipped from Caroline's ponytail behind her ears, _he's taking care of us._ Her tone makes it clear that there are to be no more questions, at least not about John and his vanishing acts.

At ten, Caroline starts to pick up on things changing, like how her mother's eyes have slowly stopped sliding to the calendar on the kitchen wall where a small x marks every day that John is gone, and how Dean and Sam are constantly snapping at each other. The air in the house is always thick with tension; she signs up for the school cheer team to get away from it and wonders if Miranda and Grayson Gilbert would mind very much if she starts spending every weekend with them.

She gets her first "boyfriend" at eleven—Justin Andrews; and even though Dean is disappearing with John constantly now and Sam is wrapped up in dreams of college (_You can't tell anyone, Care_, he warns, swearing her to secrecy), they briefly unite to lean against the kitchen counter and glare at Justin while he and Caroline do math homework. Liz laughingly tells them later that in fifth grade, "boyfriend" does not mean what they think it means.

….

The summer that Caroline is almost fourteen (and she and Bonnie and Elena spend most of their days at Tyler Lockwood's pool while Elena and Matt Donovan sneak not-so-subtle looks at each other) is when the Winchester-Forbes blended family collapses and she's forced to be a little more grown up.

_Anybody else would be proud of me!_ Sam shouts, and Caroline flinches from her spot on the front porch. She pulls her knees up to her chest. _Why can't you just be proud of me?_

Everyone is screaming at everyone, with John bellowing that Sam is ungrateful and going to get himself killed (which made Caroline roll her eyes, because _seriously_ it isn't like Stanford is a serial killer hotbed—that she knows of), Dean is desperately trying to referee and Liz is shouting that Sam is an adult and if he wants Stanford, _then he's getting Stanford, John! _

Her heart nearly stops when she hears John say above the cacophony of voices, _If you walk out that door, Sam, you better never come back_. The hush that follows John's threat roars in Caroline's ears and she drops her forehead down to her knees, tears slipping down her face. She knows what's coming, remembers the fevered light in Sam's eyes when he had told her dreamily about Paulo Alto, beaches and massive scholarships. All she can hear is_ never, never, never._

The silence stretches on until she hears movement in the house, doors banging and then she hears Dean—_Sammy, don't_—and when the front door swings open, she raises her head and looks at Sam as she wipes her eyes. Sam stops, sighs and drops down into the seat next to her.

_It'll be okay_, Sam tells her quietly. _He's just pissed. He'll come around by Christmas and everything will be fine._

She hesitates before responding, _Come back, okay?_ He smiles at her a little and when he stands up, he pulls her up with him and hugs her tightly. _Be safe, Sam_, she says quietly as he leaves, his tall frame disappearing down the street.

The next morning, she wakes up to her mother telling her that John has taken off, and Dean mumbles without looking at either one of them, _M'heading off too._ Caroline stares at both of them, and all her emotions must be written on her face because Liz says softly, _Oh honey_. Dean still doesn't look up and suddenly, Caroline hates them, hates _all_ of them because how dare they stop being a family?

_Fine_, she shouts, heading to the door. _Leave! That's all you Winchesters are good for anyway!_ And she storms out, a thirteen-year-old storm of hurt and heartbreak, the door slamming behind her. She's barely made it to the mailbox when she hears behind her, _Care I'm coming back. It's not forever. _

Caroline blinks at Dean and says quietly, _Promise?_ He grins and shoulder bumps her. _Promise_.

She's fifteen when Dean calls her from Sam's phone and tells her, voice hoarse, that Sam's girlfriend has died and that they'll both be off the grid for a little while. He tells her to ask Liz when she wants to know why, and when Dean puts Sam on the phone, Caroline wishes with every bone in her body that she was with them. It's been two years since she's seen Sam, two years of sporadic phone calls; and Dean's not much better, only popping in for the occasional holiday. She tells Sam as much, then says, _Whatever's going on, just be careful, okay?_

…..

Apparently 'a little while' is about three months, because she comes home from cheerleading practice to find her stepbrothers on her front porch with serious faces and barely healed bruises and cuts. _It's Dad_, Dean says flatly when, after worrying over them and plying them food, Liz finally asks what's happened. Caroline watches as Liz pales and her heart breaks a little because she knows despite everything, Liz never really stopped loving John Winchester.

Sam and Dean take off again, but Caroline's not nearly as bitter at fifteen as she had been at thirteen and they promise to check in regularly.

It's six months after the bombshell of John Winchester's death (and Bill Forbes has moved back to Mystic Falls with his partner Steven, and Caroline starts to think maybe this could all be okay) when the bottom drops out. _Again_.

The black Impala is sitting in her driveway and Dean's watching Sam pace on the front porch. That's when Caroline Forbes learns demons are real (and that one killed Mary Winchester by slashing her stomach and pinning her to the ceiling), that Sam had _died_ and was brought back because Dean made a deal with the devil using himself as the leverage.

_How long?_ she asks, her insides numb. _How long do you have?_ Dean shrugs and says, _A year_.

_We're gonna figure out how to stop it_, Sam assures her and it's all just too much for a (barely) sixteen year old whose biggest worry an hour ago was mastering a backtuck.

Sam and Dean both stick closer to Mystic Falls for a while, and if Caroline doesn't think too hard, it's almost nice having both of them around all the time. Except Dean is teaching her how to shoot a shotgun with a slightly terrifying ferocity, Sam drills Latin chants into her head, and Elena's parents die in a car accident.

Caroline and Bonnie practically move into the Gilbert house, taking turns forcing Elena to eat and explaining stuff like the school's counseling policies to her aunt Jenna (Caroline is particularly knowledgeable about that one—the counselor had pestered her incessantly after John died). Jeremy just sits and stares, and the house still smells like Miranda Gilbert's perfume. In the middle of all of this, Sam tells her gently that he and Dean have to go, that there's something they need to take care of.

…..

She's sixteen (going on seventeen) and Caroline's pretty sure that this is the last time she'll ever see her oldest stepbrother. Her heart is already raw and she desperately tries to keep from crying, but when she goes to hug Dean goodbye, she can't stop the muffled sobs. They stand like that for a long time—_not long enough_—with Caroline almost hyperventilating into Dean's shirt and Sam looking down, fists clenched.

_Hey_, Dean says, pulling away slightly and looking down at her. _Hey Care, you listen to me, okay? _She clamps her mouth shut and meets his eyes; without an outlet, the sobs make her shoulders shake.

_It's gonna be fine, Care_, he says. _We're gonna go fix this, okay, and then me and Sammy'll be back to threaten all your boyfriends. Okay?_

She takes in a trembling breath and whispers, _okay_ and Sam gives her a brief but tight hug before they both disappear. She watches the Impala pull out of her driveway and wishes that Mary Winchester had never been pinned to her own ceiling.

….

Sam comes back a month later, alone and thinner than she's ever seen him. She doesn't ask what happened (she doesn't want to know, wants to remember Dean as he was, standing in the kitchen and expounding on the delicacies of blueberry pie) but she does tell Sam she loves him. She makes him tea and they sit silently on the couch in the living room until Sam says, voice raw, _Love you too, Care._

The Gilbert car accident has Bonnie on super-friend alert, and after Sam's been back a week Bonnie seeks her out. She's noticed the Impala is back, but Elena had mentioned in passing that she'd only seen Sam around, and Bonnie's concerned. Caroline wants to tell her _so badly_ because she's never kept a secret for this long (mostly because she sucks at it). She wishes she could cry on Bonnie's shoulder, but Bonnie's life is _normal_. And even though it sometimes feels like she's the odd man out in the Caroline-Elena-Bonnie circle of trust, she loves them and isn't dragging them into this just because she could use a shoulder to cry on.

Sam lives in his old bedroom for two months, and no one goes into Dean's old room. He leaves after school starts back—she comes home from the first cheerleading practice of the year to find him gone and note on the kitchen counter that he's not going very far, and he'll be back soon.

….

She's precariously balancing holding herself together, worrying about Sam, worrying about Elena, and missing Dean when she meets Stefan Salvatore. Almost immediately, Caroline fancies herself half in love with him—_we're thinking a June wedding_—but he looks at Elena like she hung the moon, so she scraps that. His brother's hotter anyway, and she's not even one hundred percent sure if she's actually into Damon Salvatore or if she's just trying to fill the cracks in her heart.

Giant pieces of time start disappearing and Caroline has these _marks_ surrounded by angry purple bruises on her neck. She can't explain where they're from, and she doesn't have the energy to come up with a halfway passable excuse, so she invests in some scarves and heavy duty concealer. She's peering in the front hallway mirror, trying to settle the scarf in the perfect position when, from the doorway, _It's 85 degrees outside, Care._ Sam grins at her and she squeals a little, jumping into his arms for a hug._ Got a_ _hickey? _His grin is teasing, but she swallows nervously all the same.

_Weird things are happening_, she says later as they eat dinner at the Grill. He gives her a curious look and she goes on, _Can't really explain it. Just…keep your eyes peeled._ She doesn't know why she doesn't tell him about the missing time or the holes in her neck.

Damon Salvatore chooses that moment to drop into the seat next to her, all arrogant swagger and smirking. She can't explain why her stomach starts to knot and her hands start to tremble. _Who's this, Caroline?_ he drawls, giving Sam a once over.

Sam _does not_ like him, she can tell immediately. _I'm her brother_, Sam says coolly and Caroline is pulling her wallet out and dropping bills onto the table because she's pretty sure this is about to get ugly, _fast_. Damon smirks and looks right at Sam as he kisses her goodbye and before Sam can react, she's pulling him out the door.

_I don't like that guy_, Sam says as soon they're both in her car, his eyes narrowing. _Something's off with him._ She rolls her eyes and mumbles something about brothers and boyfriends, but if she's really honest with herself, she's not even sure _she _likes Damon.

….

Damon's done with her a mere two weeks after that, and Caroline is determined to drown her sorrows—_shallow, useless_—in the Grill's liquor supply. Sam had left the day before because he'd gotten a weird phone call from some friend of his dad's and had gone to check it out. But the more she drinks, the more she misses Dean.

Matt Donovan cuts her off when he notices she's about to start crying. He pockets her keys, drives her home and lets her cry on his shoulder. She drunkenly thinks that that was all she ever really wanted.

…..

Caroline's kind of dating Matt, Bonnie and Elena have closed themselves off from her, and Sam's been gone for a while now. She throws herself into school, into cheerleading, into winning Miss Mystic Falls; and when she wins she thinks that Dean would have had a field day at her expense. Her mom is pulling away too, saying that work is picking up and Caroline gets that being Sheriff is a big deal, but _nothing_ happens in Mystic Falls. Well—she remembers the Gilbert car crash with a flash of guilt—nothing intentional, anyway.

It's Founder's Day and the sun is shining brightly enough that Caroline can almost forget that she hasn't heard from Sam in almost a week, that he's been gone almost a month, and that her mom isn't watching the Miss Mystic Falls float. Matt squeezes her hand in the volumes of her antebellum dress and she brightens a little.

By the time the festivities are over, it's already dark and Tyler Lockwood offers her and Matt a ride home (maybe in an attempt to make peace over some fight they've had, Caroline's not totally sure—Matt never did tell her the specifics). Later she'll wish she had said no, because Tyler crashes his car into a tree and _everything hurts_ before she passes out.

When she wakes up, Matt has his head in his hands and Sam is leaning against the wall of her hospital room with his eyes squeezed shut like he's praying.

_Sam?_ she croaks out and her voice is scratchy against her throat. They are on either side of her hospital bed now, each peppering her with questions—_how do you feel, do you need the nurse_—and she shakes them both off.

_I feel fine,_ she says truthfully. _I feel great, actually._

Matt's face breaks into a grin and he says he's gonna go call Tyler and let him know, leaving her and Sam alone.

_Where've you been, mister?_ she asks, rubbing her forehead and frowning at the IV in the back of her hand. He shrugs. _I'll tell you all about it when you're better._

Except she doesn't get better.

Caroline Forbes is seventeen when she dies at the hands of a girl wearing her best friend's face.

_Game on,_ not-Elena says.

….

_Am I evil now?_ she moans to Sam, whose face is white as a sheet. _Are you going to kill me?_

That shakes him out of his daze and he grips both of her arms tightly. _No_, he says forcefully. _You're not evil, Care_.

_But I killed someone_, she whispers. Sam shakes his head and repeats, _You're not evil, Caroline. _He pauses and then tells her, a note of warning in his voice, _Don't tell your mom, okay?_

She breaks up with Matt because she might love him, and she _definitely_ hates herself—_shallow and useless_. She cries into Elena's arms afterwards because Bonnie (who is also a witch, Elena says gently) still isn't speaking to her and Damon's always grumbling under his breath that he should have killed her when he had the chance. Elena lashes out at Damon after that; and Stefan teaches her how to catch squirrels and to control herself through breathing. _Like yoga_, she says with a lightness she doesn't feel, and Stefan smiles a little.

Elena tells her everything that's been going since the Salvatores rolled into town (Caroline can't help but blame them both a little bit, since they're the reason that bitch Katherine was even in Mystic Falls) and Damon adds that they're going to take Katherine out if Caroline wants in. As if he has to ask.

The plan kind of works—Katherine's trapped in the tomb where, Damon notes gleefully, _she was supposed to be all along_. But they have bigger problems than Katherine now because Elena does not look like Katherine by accident.

The first vampire—the Original—Klaus, Elena says quietly, is coming and he wants the doppelganger.

….

Their gang of misfits discovers that Katherine might be the most thorough vampire ever—turning Caroline and triggering Tyler's werewolf curse—_seriously, though, werewolves too? How is this real life?_—to break the Sun and the Moon Curse. (Because seriously, if demons and vampires and deals made with souls as collateral are real, then hey, why not werewolves too.)

The horror of her own transition is still firmly in the forefront of her mind, so she tells Tyler she'll help him through the full moon. After all, Bonnie's finally warmed back up to her and Caroline figures it can't hurt her karma to pay it forward.

But then Elijah—who Caroline's never even met before, so she's not convinced she should trust him just because Elena vouches for his intentions—drops the bomb that the stupid Sun and Moon Curse is freaking _fake_. Elena explains quietly, her hands shaking a little, that there is _a_ curse, but it's not on all vampires and werewolves like they had thought. It's just on this one vampire—Klaus, the Original, who by the way is Elijah's _brother_. He's a vampire, but also a werewolf and the real curse is what's keeping him from being this—this _hybrid_. The ingredients to breaking it are all the same, and Elena ticks them off: vampire, werewolf, moonstone, doppelganger.

She goes to Sam, because damn if they aren't out of their league with this one. He pulls out John Winchester's journal and flips through it, searching for anything that might be useful, but there's no mention of doppelgangers or moonstone curses. Sam double-checks all the windows and doors for Devil's Traps, iron, salt, the works. She doesn't know if any of those will do much good, but she has him check anyway because Klaus is really freaking _scary_. Caroline tells Sam he should probably head out of town until this whole thing goes down, and even though she doesn't mention Dean, she thinks Sam probably gets it.

But it doesn't even matter in the end.

Elena dies (except Bonnie and Elena's bio-dad John Gilbert find a loophole that Caroline may spend forever thanking God for). Jenna dies. Damon almost dies, except Stefan makes a deal with Klaus in exchange for Damon's life. The familiarity of Stefan's sacrifice nearly brings Caroline to her knees.

And as if their lives hadn't been completely intertwined with death already, Jeremy dies, and it's _Liz_ who kills him because she was aiming for Damon.

…

The witches abandon Bonnie in retribution for her begging for Jeremy's life, Damon has a wall in his closet filled with newspaper clippings on animal attacks across the Southern US, and Caroline spends most of her time at Elena's. Even though she and Sam had tag-teamed Liz Forbes and convinced her that her daughter wasn't a monster, home was awkward, especially with Sam spending longer and longer chunks of time away from Mystic Falls. Plus Elena's been almost zombie-like since Stefan left with Klaus and Caroline considers it her duty as a best friend to at least try and offer a balm.

She's seventeen (almost eighteen) and damn if she doesn't feel _ancient_.

But then there's Tyler, and maybe they're sort of dating. Sam makes a grunting noise when she mentions it to him, so she takes that as his approval; but she waits on telling Elena. Stefan is literally _ripping_ apart entire families.

Damon takes Elena to Chicago in a last ditch effort to get their Stefan back and when they return without him, Caroline spends two straight days at Elena's house. _We'll get him back_, she says soothingly, her hand running up and down Elena's spine in long strokes, the way Liz used to do when she was little. _We'll fix him_.

….

Stefan comes back, but so does Klaus. He kills _Tyler_, for some psychotic _hybrid_ experiment; and he compels Stefan's soul right out of him. They can't fix Stefan anymore; and this time, Caroline and Bonnie both spend a week on Elena's couch.

Damon has some master plan to kill Klaus, but Caroline wants no part of it. They have a horrible track record with plans, and Caroline has to protect the people she loves. She calls Sam and leaves him a voicemail, telling him to stay where he is (wherever _that_ is) and that she'll call him when it's safe to come back. She's starting to think maybe she should leave with him next time, because anywhere has to be better than Mystic Falls. Plus Klaus's stupid _sister_ is trying to take over her life, and Caroline's not sure she even wants to fight Rebekah for it.

She's complaining about Damon and his stupid plans (and about Klaus and his stupid sister) to Tyler at the Homecoming that's now occurring in his backyard when he cuts her off and tells her the whole Kill Klaus plan is going down _right now_ and he's not going to let her die.

When she wakes up later, she realizes with a flash of hurt that he had knocked her out. He tries to explain himself, but she does _not_ play around with her free will—not anymore. Add into that the fact that she doesn't even know if his actions are his own anymore because of his freaky sire-bond to Klaus? God, Mystic Falls is the worst place for a relationship.

Elena tells her tiredly that Stefan stole Klaus's family—and Caroline blinks, because _what?_ How do you steal someone's family? _He's got them daggered and in coffins. He carries them around with him_, Elena says.

_Psycho_, Caroline mutters under her breath and she's surprised when Elena laughs a little.

….

It's her eighteenth birthday and Sam calls her before her alarm goes off.

_Happy birthday!_ he shouts in her ear, and she can pretty much hear his goofy grin splitting across his face. _Thanks_, she says. _Coming home?_

He surprises her by saying yes, and adds, _You're gonna love my present, Care. _

She smiles a little before saying goodbye and gets up, staring at herself in the mirror.

_Happy birthday_ she says to her reflection, but all she feels is phony. Dead girls don't have birthdays. She's stuck at seventeen—a boring year that's only a bridge to eighteen. She's trapped in a filler year _forever_.

She can play at being normal for a little while longer but after college? Elena, Bonnie, Matt, Jeremy—they'll get married together, have babies together, get wrinkles and laugh lines together. But Caroline will always be seventeen.

….

Tyler bites her and all she can think as the pain radiates through her entire body is _here lies Caroline Forbes—friend, sometimes mean girl—seventeen forever_.

She has no idea where vampires go when they die, but she's holding out hope that maybe she'll see Dean when she gets there. Yeah, she thinks tiredly, she'd like to be with Dean again.

She can hear her mother's footsteps, followed by heavier ones, and she thinks groggily that Sam must have driven at the Impala's absolute highest speed because she was pretty sure he'd been in Nevada or something. She closes her eyes and says to Sam in her mind, _Don't worry, I won't tell Dean._ But it's not Sam.

It's Klaus and he must be here to finish her off, which in all honesty is kind of fine by her at this point. But he doesn't. To her eternal astonishment, he's almost offended when she asks if he's here to kill her. He tells her if she decides to live, the entire world will be waiting for her. He waxes poetic about beauty and her future and she's almost lost in the images his voice is spinning. It all sounds so enticing that when he offers her his wrist, she sadly says goodbye to Dean in her mind and bites.

…

When she wakes up the next morning, the gash on her collarbone is completely gone and there's a diamond bracelet on her nightstand. But best of all, _Sam_ is in the kitchen and despite the stiffness in her muscles, she almost tackles him.

Liz must have told him what had happened before she left for work because he's immediately got her at arm's length and his eyes are sweeping over her, looking for damage. _It's fine_, Caroline assures him. _I'm okay._ She nudges at him and grins. _Where's my present?_

His face relaxes and he motions to the door.

Dean's smirking at her. _Happy birthday, Care Bear._

…

Even though Sam tells her he's already made Dean do all of this—several times—she makes him drink three glasses of holy water, hold silver, hold iron—anything she can think of. Dean does it all good naturedly and when she's finally convinced, she's crying as she reaches for him, nearly knocking him over.

_How did you get out?_ she asks, sniffling, not raising her head from his shirt. He smells like the inside of the Impala and tears threaten to spill down her face again.

Sam clears his throat and says pointedly, _Something's happening, Care. Something really big._

Caroline looks up at Dean and he pushes his shirt collar aside, showing her.

_Are those—fingerprints? _She's dumbfounded.

Sam and Dean exchange looks and she says to Sam, _So you've been gone so much to prepare for this Something Big?_

He sighs and Dean says quietly, deep voice grave, _There's a war coming, Caroline._

_...  
_

**tbc.**

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**A/N:  
**AAAH I hope this made sense! Please please please point out mistakes or inconsistencies (or if you're just like LOLWUT). Reviews are very much appreciated.


	2. one

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, etc. Title is from Explosions in the Sky.

**A/N: **Really, seriously, intensely AU/AH. Oh, and Esther's a non-factor (because I hate her) (but also there's no room for her in this fic) (and I hate her). Also, I lied a little bit—I'm taking bits and pieces from most of Supernatural S4 instead of just the beginning (angel lore, Castiel, apocalypse, Lucifer—except Sam's _not_ Lucifer's vessel).

**A/N 2:** I have no idea why I have 3 stories going on simultaneously (it's because I'm crazy). Happy Reading!

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**1. **

"There's a war coming, Caroline," Dean repeats solemnly and she shakes herself out of her fog.

"Yeah. You mentioned that," she says faintly, her grip on his arms tightening to fend off her sudden light-headedness. She wonders if vampires can pass out. "_A war_? Are you sure? How do you know? Is it coming to Mystic Falls or just _coming? _What's—"

"Breathe, Caroline," Sam cuts in and he has the presence of mind to look a little sheepish when she gives him major side-eye. "Sorry. Just…take it easy, okay? We're gonna tell you everything we know, so chill out."

"Okay," she agrees quietly, and Dean's eyes fall onto the birthday cake Liz had left on the counter for her yesterday morning. Most of the cake is still there because she had only taken some of it to Fell's Tomb to share with Elena, Bonnie and Matt (they'd all been way more interested in the beer). Sam sees what Dean is looking at and rolls his eyes at Caroline, who tries to smile but comes up wanting.

"What happened to _team pie_?" Sam asks sarcastically as Dean pulls away from Caroline and advances on the cake. He scoffs as he pulls a fork out of a drawer and pulls off the plastic cover guarding it.

"You don't turn down sex just because a woman isn't a supermodel, Sammy," Dean opines through a mouth full of fluff and frosting. He brandishes his fork at Sam for emphasis.

She still can't take her eyes off of Dean; afraid that if she does, he'll disappear and she'll discover this was all a fever dream. "_Gross_," she manages to say, shaking her head slightly; and he may be recently resurrected, but that doesn't mean she can't call him on his crap. "_Sexist_ and gross." But a part of her is incredibly relieved that wherever Dean has been the past few months, he's still _Dean_ and not some shell of himself.

"Think you can leave your lover alone for _just a second _and explain that handprint?" Sam asks waspishly, one eyebrow arched. Dean shoots Sam the middle finger, takes another bite of cake, closes his eyes and groans.

"I'm telling you," he says rapturously, "Liz Forbes makes a _mean_ chocolate cake."

"It's not _that_ good," Sam says impatiently.

"_Why_ do you have a handprint burned into your shoulder?" Caroline asks again softly, interrupting them.

Dean chews slowly and says, "It's a really long story, Care. If you've got plans, you're gonna want to cancel them."

"You're either fishing for gossip or stalling. Give it up and start talking," she orders, channeling as much Bonnie Bennett into her tone as she can. She's being a bitch and she knows it; but she's _terrified_ because Dean was _dead_ and now he's not and he's talking about _war_. Sam smirks at Dean, who sighs dramatically as he picks up the plate with the entire rest of the cake on it and marches into the living room.

Dean drops down into the middle of the couch and Caroline, eyes still lingering over him as if he'll vanish into thin air if she looks away for too long, sits next to him. Dean rubs his chin and says, "I'm just trying to decide where's the best place to start." He looks over at Sam a little helplessly.

Caroline bites her lip and asks gingerly, "Where did you go after you—you know."

He frowns a little, looking down at the plate in his lap before sliding it on the coffee table. "Hell," he says simply and the way he says it, all flat and toneless and _empty_, makes Caroline's insides twist and her heart fracture.

"It was horrible. A month here is ten years in Hell, so. . ." he trails off and he's staring at the ground as though it can wipe his memory. "Whatever the darkest and most horrific place you can imagine is, Hell is worse."

The only sound in the room is the ticking of the clock on the mantle. Caroline's eyes are welling up and Sam's hands are clenched together, even though she'd be surprised if he hadn't heard this already. She swallows the lump in her throat and waits for him to go on.

Dean runs a hand over his head and she thinks he must be giving himself a mental slap because he lightens considerably. "But I'm out and it's over now, so."

"So," she echoes. "A war? That handprint?"

He seems to be considering his words carefully. "So demons exist, right?" he finally offers, a little lamely. Sam's head drops back in frustration.

She stares at him and doesn't answer, her throat constricting.

"Look," Sam takes over, eyes on the ceiling. "Demons aren't the only things that exist, we know that. There's an entire spectrum of supernatural beings out there—" _Of which I am one_, Caroline thinks, and it dawns on her that she has no clue if Sam's told Dean about her . . . _condition_. "—And we've found out something exists that we thought was just a story."

There is silence again and Caroline thinks she might actually lose her mind if one of them doesn't tell her what's going on. All the possibilities are running through her brain and she can't really think of anything worse than demons and vampires, so it _must_ be bad.

"Angels," Dean says finally. "An angel pulled me out of Hell."

Caroline's mouth drops open—her jaw actually, _physically_ falls.

"Angels?" she repeats weakly. "Like—like the ones that visited Mary and the manger?"

Dean snickers. "Well, they're not really what _I_ pictured, but yeah. The whole 'servants of God' thing."

Caroline's head is spinning. "So . . . so God's real too?" She seriously can't handle this, because this revelation can only mean that she really is eternally damned.

"We don't know yet," Dean says and when Sam scowls at him, he amends, "We don't know yet, but Sammy here thinks so."

She meets Sam's eyes and it doesn't take him long to figure out what direction her thoughts have taken. "Care," he says, coming to squat in front of her and taking both of her hands in his. "We have no idea what decides where people go when they die."

"_Sam_," she wails softly. "I'm a _vampire_, of course we know where I'm going." Out of the corner of her eye she notes vaguely that Dean doesn't look surprised by her declaration. Well that answers that.

"_Caroline_," he says again, more than a little concern passing over his face. "Remember what I told you before?" She manages to nod between hiccups—_You're not evil, Caroline_—and he continues soothingly, "It's not _what_ you are that makes you evil, Care. It's _who _you are and even more than that, it's _what you do_."

"But I've killed someone," she whispers and Dean does start in surprise at that. "I didn't mean to," she tells him pitifully. "I didn't know what I was doing, it was so much—" She hiccups again. "I don't wanna go to Hell, Sam."

Dean slides over closer to where she's sitting on the couch and wraps one arm around her shoulders. "You're not going to Hell, Care, and you want to know how I know?" She blinks up at him, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

"I know because you're remorseful," he says and there's a quiet authority in his voice that reminds her simultaneously of John Winchester and Stefan Salvatore (before he decided he'd rather watch the world burn). "You have a conscience, Care, and trust me. That makes all the difference."

Her head drops onto Dean's shoulder and she feels him lay his cheek on her crown. The three of them sit like that for a while, with Sam at her feet, her hands wrapped tightly in his and Dean's arm around her.

_God_, she thinks, a little terrified at talking to something that seems so far removed from herself, _if You're the one who brought Dean back, then—you know, thanks._

She sits up after a while and says softly, "So what's going to happen now? Why did an angel pull you out? Is everything going down _here_?"

Dean and Sam exchange glances. "I'm supposed to fight on the angels' side," he says quietly.

For the second time in less than half an hour, Caroline wonders if vampires can faint, because she feels dangerously close to passing out. _Again_. Her insides are like ice. "Angels are on one side? B-but what can beat _angels_? What do you mean, you're _supposed_ to fight for them? And—and aren't angels the _good guys_?" Her voice pitches upward at the end of her rambling and she inhales to quash the hysterics that are threatening to rise.

"We're not all that sure," Sam tells her and Dean scoffs as she stares at both of them in disbelief. He elaborates, "We think they're kind of like people—good intentions, bad way of doing things."

"Also selfish," Dean adds tartly, eyebrows knitting together.

"What's fighting on the other side?" she asks, afraid that she already knows the answer. If a massive battle between angels and demons is going down, they're going to need a hell of a lot more than some salt, a few Devil's Traps and Bonnie's grimoires.

But Sam surprises her. "Everyone else," he says and her stomach drops through the floor.

When Caroline finds her voice, she can only stammer weakly. Dean stands up and starts pacing in front of the mantle.

"It's not just a war that's starting here, Care," he explains, his hand going to the back of his neck. "It's the Apocalypse."

…..

Caroline has never been incredibly religious. She kind of believes in God, definitely more so after she had found out demons were real; because really if there's so much darkness that exists, there has to be an equal amount of light too. She likens it to the way Bonnie had explained witchcraft to her—_the balance of Nature_. Plus, she's a _vampire_. There's really not much she won't accept as being possible.

But the Apocalypse? She gets that being terrified of the world ending has become super trendy—hell, half her cheer squad takes the Mayan calendar seriously. She always rolls her eyes at them because _come on_. (And Elena had told her a while ago that apparently Elijah and Klaus were responsible for a bunch of fake ancient drawings, so who's to say they didn't make up a doomsday calendar just to screw with people? _Typical_.)

But Dean and Sam are wearing similarly somber expressions, and she can't think of a good reason to doubt them or the angel that pulled Dean out of Hell.

"But why do _angels_ want to start the Apocalypse?" she demands tearfully. "I thought—they're in Heaven right? So don't they have it pretty good?"

"We're still figuring the 'why' part out," Dean sighs, propping his legs up on the coffee table. "Meanwhile, the Bible's become Sammy's new best friend. Pretty sure their game plan's all in there."

"There _is_ another option," Sam says cautiously and Dean shoots him a 'don't even go there' look, piquing Caroline's curiosity immediately.

"Oh come on!" she protests as Sam elects not to continue. "Don't we need all the help we can get?"

"The thing is," Sam says carefully, "This . . . person isn't exactly trustworthy."

Something about the way Sam lingers on the word 'person' makes Caroline's eyebrows slash together. "Who is it? Is it a _demon_?"

"Okay, look," Dean breaks in. "It's the angel that pulled me out of Hell."

Caroline's mouth drops open—_twice in one day, jeez_, she thinks, a little shocked. "The one's whose handprint—you've _met_ him? Or her?" she adds as an afterthought.

"_His_ name is Castiel," Dean says, "and he seems less—_vengeance-y_ than the others we've met. But that doesn't mean he's on our side, or that anything he says is the truth."

Sam grumbles, "We should just _ask_ him—"

"And risk tipping off the Host of Heaven that I'm not exactly _keen_ on killing everyone I love? No thanks. Forget about asking Cas," Dean advises sardonically.

They fall into silence.

"So . . . what happens now?" Caroline finally asks uncertainly, looking from Sam to Dean and clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking.

"Well," Sam says, "Now we come up with a plan."

A plan. They have to come up with a plan to fight freaking _angels_ because they want to destroy the world.

"Why is this happening in Mystic Falls?" she wonders, fingers plucking at the loose strings of a sofa cushion.

"We've been trying to figure that out too," Sam says grimly and Caroline offers, "Maybe we're on a Hellmouth." Actually, that would explain _so much_.

The mood considerably lightened, Dean snickers and Sam says, "Yeah . . . we'll keep looking."

….

"Show me," Dean whines from his seat across from her in the booth. "I want to see it." He looks around and whispers conspiratorially, "Your vamp face." Caroline rolls her eyes at him. She's had Dean back less than three hours and they've already fallen back into older brother, little sister mode.

"It's gross and weird-looking," she tells him, shaking her head and popping a fry into her mouth. "And we're in public, so _no_." She's not about to vamp out at him in the middle of the Grill. "Idiot." She's missed him _so much_.

"Wimp," Dean retorts, leaning back in the booth and scowling at her.

"Children," Sam scolds lightly, trying to steal a fry from Caroline's plate (she smacks his hand away) and raising his eyebrows at both of them. After dropping an Apocalypse in her lap, Dean had declared that he was hungry and ushered both of them into the Impala. _You just downed the entire rest of that cake_, Sam had said in slight awe. _How are you hungry?_

"Were you . . . surprised when Sam told you?" Caroline asks, then immediately feels stupid; because _of course_ he was surprised. People don't go around expecting their stepsisters to turn into immortal creatures of the night. Dean's smirking at her and she blushes a little. "You know what I mean."

He tilts his head at her and says slowly, "I wasn't happy about it, that's for sure."

"Makes two of us," she mutters and Sam raises his hand slightly, saying, "Three of us."

"But we've run into vampires on the road before," Dean continues seriously, "So I wasn't, ya know, worried about your _soul_ or any of that Buffy crap. Just . . . pissed someone killed you." There's a solemn silence before Dean brightens and winks at her. "Plus, I kind of wanted nieces and nephews and since Samantha here is like lady-repellant—" Sam throws a fry at him and Dean ducks. "Dude, that had _ketchup_ on it!"

Caroline is giggling a little into her Diet Coke when her phone starts buzzing, _Bonnie_ flashing across the screen. She pushes her hair away from her ear to answer, and says, "Hey Bon, what's up?"

Sam and Dean are arguing over dessert when she hangs up—_Seriously, Dean, you ate over half of Caroline's birthday cake, why do you need pie too? Dude, Sam, what do you have against _pie_?_

"Hey," she says, waving her hand in between them. "Stuff's happening, we've got to go."

Once they're all piled in the Impala, Dean says, "So what's the big rush? Hair emergency? Boy problems?"

"Maybe, but I don't think so this time," Caroline says darkly under her breath, twisting her ring around her index finger.

"Probably vampire drama," Sam comments to him. "Lots and lots of vampire drama."

Dean waits a beat then says, "Dude, _come on_. One of you has to explain." Sam glances back at Caroline and gestures towards her.

She sighs and gives Dean a brief rundown of Stefan and Damon's eternal tug-of-war over girls who look like Katherine Pierce, of Original vampires whose angst gives fourteen-year-old girls a run for their money even as they spin tales of seeing the world; and when she finally stops, he says, "Holy crap. It's like supernatural _Gossip Girl_."

Sam snorts and says, "You would think that."

"Hey," Dean retorts. "I happen to be a connoisseur of fine television. Bitch."

"Jerk."

Caroline rolls her eyes even as her heart swells.

….

Bonnie's sitting on the floor of the witches' house with her eyes shut, candles dotting every corner of the room and Emily Bennett's grimoire open in front of her.

"This is spooky," Dean stage whispers to Sam, and Bonnie opens her eyes.

"Hey, Caroline," she says warmly, her eyes sliding over to where Dean and Sam are hanging back. "Welcome back, Dean." Caroline starts in surprise.

"How did you know?"

Bonnie shrugs and gestures around her. "The witches," she says simply.

"Right," Caroline replies sheepishly, sitting down across from Bonnie. "The witches. So they decided to forgive you because you helped hide Klaus's coffins? High price, especially considering that plan failed spectacularly."

Bonnie smiles a little before saying, "I think we've got bigger problems than Klaus, Care." _No kidding_, Caroline thinks. _Just another normal day in Mystic Falls, where our problems are bigger than yours_—and she winces because she's inadvertently reminded herself of bunny hunting with Stefan and _I'm just thinking about how it's Tuesday_.

"Yeah, I know," Caroline responds wearily. Bonnie looks at her quizzically and Caroline says, "You first. I'd bet my college tuition that we're worried about the same thing." Bonnie laughs a little, but it's a forced sound and Caroline's worried.

"They want me to leave," Bonnie tells her, and the flames on her candles spiral up suddenly. _Dude_, she hears Dean whisper; she had half-forgotten they were still there. "They keep saying 'revelations' over and over—_revelations, revelations_." She stops, biting her lip. "And I've been having these dreams."

"Witchy dreams?" Caroline wants to know shakily. Bonnie nods and Caroline's heart drops.

"I'm in the middle of the town square, and there's all this _light_. So much light it hurts to keep looking," she says, and in her peripheral vision, Caroline sees Dean stiffen slightly. "Everything's destroyed or burning, and there's just . . . bodies. Bodies everywhere." Bonnie shuts her eyes tightly and the candle flames reach heights higher than Caroline's ever seen them. "There's . . . there's you, and Elena, and Matt, and _Jeremy _. . . It looks like the end of the world, Care."

Caroline leans over and wraps her arms around Bonnie, pulling her close. Bonnie's head drops into where Caroline's neck and shoulder meet and she feels wetness. "Hey," she says firmly. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. And Jeremy's got his ring and Elena's got Stefan and Damon, so we're all gonna be fine, Bon. _We're all going to be fine_." She's pretty sure Bonnie doesn't totally believe her (she's not sure she believes herself either) but whatever; her best friend is a wreck and Caroline's sure as hell going to do everything in her power (and in Sam and Dean's) to make sure the people she loves are safe.

She doesn't let go and Bonnie doesn't pull away as Caroline says, keeping her voice warm and comforting, "Do the witches have any advice? Tips on avoidance?"

Bonnie's breath catches as she sits back, wiping at her eyes. "They haven't offered any, but I haven't asked either."

"Okay," Caroline says, going into '_I'm cheer squad captain and you'll do what I say_' mode. "So you ask them what to do if you decide to stay and ride this thing out. I mean they were super accommodating when Klaus was threatening to kill you, right? They seem pretty invested in your safety."

"Invested in the continuation of the Bennett line," Bonnie corrects her, a little bitterly. Caroline reaches over and takes Bonnie's hand.

"Well, _I'm_ invested in you safety," she says firmly, "And we're going to figure out how to make sure your dreams stay dreams." She motions for Dean and Sam to come over.

Bonnie surreptitiously wipes at her eyes again as Sam says kindly, "It's okay, Bonnie. We," he motions to himself and Dean, "kind of know what's going on."

When he's done explaining about angels and the Apocalypse and how the battle lines have basically already been drawn, Bonnie shudders. "I'll see what I can find out," she promises. "And if there's any way to stop it. Oh, and hey Care?"

Caroline stops mid-walk to the doorway. "We should probably fill in Matt and Elena," Bonnie advises.

"Right," Caroline says slowly. "What about Stefan and Damon?" Bonnie scowls a little before nodding.

Caroline bites her lip before venturing, "What about—the Originals?"

The flames spike and she flinches backwards slightly. "It was just an idea; that's why I asked," she defends to the hundreds of dead witches she knows are listening.

Bonnie shakes her head. "Only if we end up in the worst case scenario."

…..

"Elena!" she calls as she opens the front door to the Gilbert house, holding it open for Dean and Sam behind her. "Elena, where—" she jumps as she turns right into Damon. He leers down at her and she sees Sam glare at him next to her.

"Sup, Barbie?"

Elena, God bless her timing, saves Caroline from having to respond. "You're still here?" she says snippily to Damon as she comes down the stairs and pulls Caroline into the living room. Caroline's eyebrows go up, but whatever—it's not like she's concerned about _Damon's_ feelings.

When Elena stops, it's like she notices Sam and Dean for the first time. "Oh—hey, guys," she says uncertainly, turning back to Caroline. "You said it was an emergency," Elena prods her.

"Yeah, it is," Caroline says, glancing around. "Where are Alaric and Jeremy?" She lowers her voice, "And where's Stefan?"

Elena lists them off, "Ric's grading papers at his apartment, Jeremy's working at the Grill, and Stefan's—"

"Probably off doing something boring, like self-flagellating or bunny-hunting," Damon drawls, looking directly at Caroline when he says _bunny hunting_. "Should we _really_ be talking about this in front of strangers?" He moves to stand next to Elena and stares pointedly at the Winchesters.

"You don't even know what _this_ is, and they're not strangers," Elena snaps, stepping away from him and closer to Caroline, who notices that Elena's going out of her way to not only _tell_ Damon what's what, but to physically elaborate. Tension is crackling between the two of them. "They're Sam and Dean."

"And they can help," Caroline adds, choosing to ignore the Damon-Elena weirdness for now. She'll ask Elena about it later. "They're hunters, like Alaric."

Dean's eyebrows shoot up and he gives Caroline a _look_. She shrugs, because really, once he mentioned the freaking Apocalypse was happening in her backyard, she's pretty sure all bets were off as far as keeping Sam and Dean's day jobs a secret was concerned.

Damon snorts and drops gracefully onto Elena's couch. Elena rolls her eyes at the back of his head and goes to sit next to him.

Caroline glances at Sam quickly, and begins carefully, "The witches started communicating with Bonnie again. Something really big is coming—big enough that Bonnie's ancestors warned her to get out of town."

"Spit it out, Barbie," Damon says and Sam crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at Damon.

Caroline has always sucked at breaking the news to people, so she grits her teeth and dives right in, "It's the Apocalypse, basically."

….

"So wait," Damon drawls slowly, pointing his glass filled with Ric's alcohol at Dean. "You were in Hell. And then you weren't. Because an _angel_ pulled you out. And now there's a huge, biblical war coming that's going to destroy everyone and Judgey's dead ancestors are screaming _flee_?" He stops to down another enormous gulp of scotch before continuing, "This has _got_ to be some kind of elaborate joke. I'm impressed Barbie, very well-played."

"It's not a joke," she shoots back. "You want to see the handprint that's burned on Dean's shoulder?" She gestures at Dean, who mumbles something about not being sideshow attraction, thank you very much.

Damon pauses and does his crazy-eye thing at her. "Kind of _gay_ don't you think?"

"You're vile," she informs him disgustedly and he smirks, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Elena's still very clearly processing everything as she says confusedly, "But . . . _angels_."

Caroline nods sympathetically. "Not the holy, watching-over-you guardians Sunday School promised."

"What could angels _possibly_ get out of an apocalypse?" Damon wonders idly. "Aren't they a little busy cloud-sitting and harp-playing?"

"You of all people should know that myth usually has nothing to do with reality," Caroline rebukes him. "Think less Cupid, more angry, avenging warriors with really big swords."

"And wings," Dean adds helpfully.

Damon mouths _wings_ before tipping back his glass and swallowing its contents. "So, Mouseketeers. Any brilliant ideas?"

"Bonnie's trying to get answers from the witches—" Caroline starts to say, and Damon murmurs darkly, "_Witches_." She glares at him before continuing, "And we're researching everything we can think of."

"I'm _so_ comforted," Damon says, toasting her with his empty glass.

….

Liz's Sheriff's car isn't in the driveway when Dean parks the Impala on the street, but Caroline's hardly surprised. With an ancient vampire-werewolf hybrid who might be _actually insane_ and his lackeys running around, Caroline really counts herself lucky that she sees her mother at all these days.

"That Damon guy is a _dick_," Dean comments and then says, in what Caroline is pretty sure he thinks is a nonchalant tone, "Sammy mentioned that you and him…"

She opens her car door and gets out. "We 'dated.'" She makes finger quotes in the air, because compelled sex and serving as a one-stop, all-you-can-eat buffet isn't _dating_, not even in the loosest sense of the word (but she keeps that to herself, because Damon would die for Elena, and he can't do that if Dean or Sam kills him). "But it wasn't real and it didn't last very long." She slams the door to the Impala shut and heads to the house.

Sam snorts, "Thank God," under his breath as they follow her up her front yard and she would glare at him if she didn't also thank God. Her hand rubs her neck unconsciously.

Dean thankfully doesn't continue to press her about Damon, but does continue, "So this Klaus guy—the guy that almost killed Bonnie. He saved your life—"

"He didn't _save_ my life," she corrects him, unlocking the front door and stepping inside. "He just . . . cleaned up his own mess."

Dean considers her as Sam walks around them into the kitchen. She hears the icemaker whirling and the cabinet doors being opened and shut. "Yeah, okay. But why do you think he did it?"

She shrugs. "I have no idea. Why does a psycho thousand year old vampire-hybrid do anything?"

Sam returns from the kitchen with a giant glass of—if Caroline isn't mistaken—Liz's best bourbon and says to Dean, "I still say we need to talk to Castiel."

"And _I_ still say that's a shit idea," Dean snaps back. "Cas may seem like he's not that bad, but when it comes down to us versus them? He's on their side, not ours."

"I think you're wrong," Sam retorts hotly. "Come on, Dean, he got demoted because of his _empathy_ towards us!"

"Wait, _what_?" Caroline demands. "You left this part out!"

"Because it doesn't matter," Dean mutters, pacing the front hallway. "In fact, it's more reason _not _to talk to him. What if he's all pissy and wants to prove he's still stoic?"

"I just can't see that happening," Sam says quietly, and light turns the bourbon in his glass a hazy gold.

"I told you—"

"I'm with Sam," Caroline interjects, "And it's two versus one, so—"

"_The hell_—this isn't a democracy, Caroline—"

"Look," she snaps, "I promised Bonnie nothing would happen to her, that nothing would happen to anyone we care about; and you said he _likes_ you two, so I'm not seeing the risk. It's not like we're laying out battle plans and asking his opinion. We're just asking for _elaboration_ on stuff he's already told you."

Dean's hands go up in capitulation and he says, "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you two when this whole thing blows up in our faces."

Sam sends her a triumphant, conspiratorial glance. "We definitely won't."

She waits before asking what's probably a question with an incredibly obvious answer that she's just not seeing. "How do you even, like, _summon_ an angel?"

"You pray," Sam says, looking at her, amused.

She _knew _it had to be obvious. "Do you think God hears vampire prayers?" she wonders distractedly as she takes her shoes off and heads to the sofa.

"If God exists, then I'd say he hears vampire prayers," Dean says with a hint of annoyance still in his voice. He settles in next to her.

Caroline looks over at him, startled. "You _really_ don't think God exists? Even though angels clearly do?"

"M'not getting into this right now, Care," he warns, his hand going to his forehead.

She doesn't push it. "Okay, so praying." She looks between the two of them. "Is there like . . . anything specific we have to say or do we just—"

"Dean, Sam," a gravelly new voice says. "Caroline."

….

Caroline can't stop staring. She knows she's being rude, and even worse, _obvious_, but she can't help it. Castiel is nothing like what she's pictured angels to look like (but she acknowledges that her limited imagination as far as angels are concerned is due to the giant illustrated Bible her grandmother had given to her when she was six—those angels were incredibly pale with long faces and fluffy hair). Castiel resembles those angels about as much as Caroline herself does. He's remarkably unremarkable.

Castiel seems entirely unperturbed by her staring—in fact, he seems entirely unperturbed by anything. Sam elbows her and she snaps out of it.

"Can I ask you something," she ventures and when Castiel turns his attention from Dean towards her, she shrinks back a little because it feels like he can see right into her soul. She doesn't wait for him to answer. "Am I damned?"

Castiel considers her, saying nothing for several moments. "I'm afraid that isn't up to me," he answers finally, and even though it's not the answer she was hoping for, it isn't _no_.

"Who is it up to?" she asks, but she's pretty sure she knows what he'll say.

"The Lord," he says simply, and she swallows hard.

Sam changes the subject quickly. "Cas—we're just not too sure what the angels are getting out of the Apocalypse." Dean grunts, "Subtle, Sammy," from Caroline's elbow.

"The point?" Castiel echoes, tilting his head at Sam.

"Yeah, like . . . the _reason_ for it."

Castiel considers the three of them for long time before saying, "The Lord has been absent from Heaven for a long time now. Some of the Host of Heaven believe that if the Apocalypse is brought upon humanity, He will return." He sips the tea Caroline had made for him.

"Seriously?" she cries out, forgetting for a moment her fear and that this is an actual, real life angel in front of her. "The _Host_ of _Heaven_ is throwing a temper tantrum to get God's attention?" Dean snickers into his hand.

Castiel regards her calmly. "I suppose you could say that, yes," he agrees amicably. She gapes at him for a second before turning to Sam and saying, "Do _all_ supernatural creatures have daddy issues?"

"Yes," he answers, and she's pretty sure he's only half-joking. "But some normal, natural creatures do too," and he and Dean exchange glances.

…

Castiel must actually be fond of Sam and Dean, Caroline thinks, because he hasn't, like, swished away in a huge ball of light yet and it's not like any of the three of them are going out of their way to entertain him. Sam confides to her that apparently humans fascinate Castiel, and Dean might actually be his best friend. Which Caroline supposes is kind of sweet, in a weird, what-are-our-lives kind of way.

When Castiel's been with them for two days, she comes home from school to find a wrapped box sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for her. On top of the box there is a thick envelope with her name written in elegant script on the front.

Dean is staring at the box like it might bite him if he gets too close and Sam is sitting at the kitchen table with his computer in front of him, eying it suspiciously from afar.

"What do you think is in it?" Dean asks as Caroline traces her name on the envelope before opening it.

She scans the thick, cream-colored card and says, slightly in awe at the sheer brazenness of it, "They're throwing a ball. The Originals are throwing a _ball._"

From his spot at the kitchen table, Sam points out, "There's something written on the back." She flips it over and reads aloud, "_Save me a dance. Fondly, Klaus_."

"No," Dean says immediately, taking the invitation from her and glaring at it. "No, no, nope, that is _not_ happening. And what kind of name is _Mikaelson_?"

Castiel is watching the entire scene unfold with such a fascinated expression on his face that Caroline would laugh if she wasn't still slightly afraid of him.

"Son of Mikael," Sam informs him, and before she can lecture Dean on the marvels of modern feminism and how she can take care of herself, her phone buzzes and Elena says in her ear, "Did you get an invitation to the Originals' ball?"

"Yeah," she confirms, snatching the invitation back from Dean. "A _ball_. Freaking medieval. Too bad it's on Saturday instead of Friday, though. Can't use the football game as an excuse not to go."

Elena laughs a little then says, "Stefan and Damon pitched a fit. Elijah wants to talk to me when I go—" and Caroline hears Damon holler in the background, _You're not going!_ Elena ignores him and continues as though she wasn't interrupted at all, "Since Damon and Stefan _aren't invited_—" she can see Elena in her head fixing both Salvatores with a glare as she emphasizes this, "want to be dates?"

Caroline brightens immediately and says in an exaggerated Southern drawl, "Why, Miss Gilbert, I do de_clare_!" She giggles then says, "Yeah, sounds good to me. Hey, did your invitation come with anything?"

"Nope," Elena says. "Hey, Care, Jeremy's calling me. Talk to you soon, okay?"

"Yeah," she says, hanging up and running her index finger down the ribbon on the box. "Elena's going," she comments absently and Dean makes a face.

"How nice for Elena. You're not."

She rolls her eyes. "Think that's a good idea? Pissing off a volatile vampire-werewolf hybrid?"

"I think you should go," Sam pipes up and Dean says furiously, "No one asked you, Sammy."

"No one asked _you_, Dean," Sam retorts. "I think you should go and make nice with them. Keeps the peace, and it's one less thing to worry about."

Makes sense to her, so Caroline nods in agreement and before Dean can say anything, she pulls the top off the box.

"Holy crap," Dean says, clearly forgetting his argument as they both peer at the brilliant blue gown lying neatly folded at the bottom.

Caroline stares at it, mesmerized. She's never owned anything this nice, not even the dress she won Miss Mystic Falls in.

"Creepy Cinderella fetish," she hears Dean gripe and despite the loveliness of the dress, she's afraid she has to agree.

….

She bans Dean and Sam (mostly Dean) from the Mikaelson ball, and Sam tells her not to worry, he'll keep Dean away. Dean growls something unintelligible and Castiel, who still hasn't left (but she minds less and less because she's pretty sure Sam's right about him), looks at him as though Dean is a very interesting specimen under a microscope. Which to an angel, she supposes he is.

Elena honks her horn from the street and Caroline picks up her glittery shawl that Castiel is almost entranced by and says, once more for emphasis, "Do _not_ crash this thing, Dean. Don't do it." He rolls his eyes at her and shoos her out the door.

"Nice dress," Elena comments appreciatively. "Is that a _diamond_ bracelet, Care?" Elena's eyes are wide as she stares at Caroline's wrist.

"Sam and Dean went in on it together," she lies smoothly. She honestly has no idea why she was wearing the stupid thing—fine, that's a lie. It's beautiful and sparkly and it isn't the bracelet's fault _Klaus_ gave it to her.

"Game plan," Elena says as she turns her car onto the long driveway that leads up to the Mikaelson house.

"Schmooze, dance, _drink_, play nice while you talk to Elijah, leave in one piece," Caroline recites, fiddling with her seat belt. Elena nods and adds, "And don't get out of each other's sight for very long."

Caroline thinks back to the invitation—_Save me a dance_—and agrees fervently.

Elena pulls up to a giant, sprawling house—_mansion_, Caroline corrects herself. The Mikaelson mansion dwarfs even the Lockwood house, which is no easy feat. A valet takes Elena's car keys, and when Elena comes to stand next to Caroline, they both simply gape up at the house. There's a _fountain_ behind them.

"Jeez," Elena breathes, awestruck.

Caroline almost sighs _yeah_ in agreement but catches herself and wonders instead, "Think they're overcompensating for something?"

Elena laughs and holds out her arm. "Shall we, Miss Forbes?"

Caroline smiles back and links her arm with Elena's. "Let's, Miss Gilbert."

…

"I'm pleased you could make it," Klaus says low into her ear, and Caroline stiffens, glancing around for Elena. She relaxes a fraction when she sees the other girl in deep conversation with Elijah and replies frostily, "You say that as if I had a choice."

He holds out a glass of champagne and she takes it because at this moment, she'd rather have alcohol than pride. "Of course you had a choice," he says and he sounds just as offended as he did on her birthday when she asked if he was going to kill her.

She snorts a little and says, "Right," then winces internally because the whole point of even coming to this stupid ball was to _not_ piss him off. She sneaks a subtle glance up at him and relaxes a fraction more when he seems more amused than murderous.

Elijah's voice floats down from the extravagant staircase next to where she and Klaus are standing; as Klaus excuses himself and goes to stand with the rest of the Original family, Elena slips over.

Caroline opens her mouth to ask Elena about Elijah, but Elena puts a finger to her mouth and points discreetly at the staircase. Caroline turns and they're all standing there. Four brothers, one sister—her eyes narrow in dislike at Rebekah, who smirks back at her.

"What a good-looking family," someone behind her murmurs appreciatively and Caroline has to concentrate to keep her eyes from rolling right out of their sockets.

". . . So please join us in the ballroom," Elijah finishes, and Caroline realizes she tuned out his entire speech.

Before she can turn to tell Elena they need to speed up the game plan because she really doesn't want to spend her Saturday night here (especially when she has a recently resurrected stepbrother teaching an _angel_ how to play poker at her kitchen table), Klaus is back at her side and Elena is gone.

He offers her his arm but doesn't say anything; only looks intently at her and he might have the darkest eyes she's ever seen that still manage to stay blue. She grinds her teeth together and takes his arm. _Play nice, play nice, play nice_, she chants internally.

The opening notes of a waltz start up and she takes a moment to silently thank Miranda Gilbert for insisting Elena enroll in cotillion, thereby ensuring that she and Bonnie enrolled as well. Reminded of their mission, Caroline tries to covertly find Elena in the crowded ballroom, but all the Originals are present, which means it's less likely someone's gnawing on her friend's neck in a dark corner. Satisfied, she turns her focus back to the dance steps.

Klaus isn't saying anything and it's really creeping her out; before she can stop herself, she says, "Why'd you invite me here if you aren't even going to talk to me?" As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wishes she could call them back—_stupid brain to mouth non-filter_.

His mouth twitches upward and he's definitely amused by her, which is probably the best reaction, considering. "What would you like to talk about?"

She shakes her head at him and says, frustrated, "_You_ invited _me_, buster." He's definitely smiling now, and of course he has dimples.

"Fine," Klaus says genially. "How is your mother?"

Caroline stiffens, trying to discern if there's a threat hidden in there somewhere and he notices. "Ah," he says quietly, some of the amusement slipping away. "On to less personal topics, then? Like how ravishing you look in that dress."

She feels herself blushing and swears internally. "Ravishing, really?" she says, trying her best to sound flippant. "I think you've been reading too many romance novels."

He smirks down at her, and she's momentarily distracted by how different he looks when he's not snarling about how he's going to burn down the entire town. But before she can analyze that to death, she sees Damon and Stefan Salvatore out of the corner of her eye and she groans.

"Problem?" he asks languidly, and she wonders if he's got some sort of magnetic pull because once she meets his eyes she can barely force herself to look away. She swallows and she knows he notices.

"Stefan and Damon just walked in," she says, glancing over to the ballroom entrance. "Idiots," she adds under breath, shaking her head. The look on his face invites her to go on, so she says, "Elena told them not to come, but _of course_ they think they can take better care of her than she can. So," she shrugs as he spins her slowly, "Idiots."

"And your two young men aren't here," he remarks casually, and her heart almost stops.

"Excuse me?" she demands, her hands clenching down on his. "Are you _stalking_ me?"

He doesn't even look bothered by her accusation. "Of course not," he says easily as they circle around Rebekah and her date, some guy from the football team who Caroline thinks she may have dated for like a second in ninth grade.

"Rebekah saw you at the Grill," he says and she scowls at him.

"Yeah, well, first of all, your sister wants to take over my life, and it's annoying," she informs him tartly, not caring that Rebekah can hear her. He laughs at that, and she thinks, maybe if he wasn't such a horrible person, he could be kind of hot. "And second, those are my _stepbrothers_. God."

"Good to know," he says quietly, and there's something about the way he says that tugs at her stomach.

The waltz ends and he bows slightly to her; she returns it with the quickest curtsy she's ever done and zips off to find Elena.

"Barbie," Damon hisses, snatching her arm and pulling her into a corner. "Where the _hell_ is Elena?" Stefan's glowering at her—_nice time to decide to care, Stefan_, she thinks viciously—and she wrenches herself out of Damon's grasp.

"She's a big girl, Damon," Caroline snaps. "Maybe if you treated her like a grown-up, she'd like you better." It's a low blow but she doesn't care.

Damon snarls back at her and Stefan says calmly, "Maybe if she didn't act like a child—"

"_What_ are you two doing here?" Elena whisper-shrieks, appearing at Caroline's side out of nowhere.

"Taking you home," Damon informs her, and Elena takes hold of Caroline's arm tightly.

"I don't think so," she shoots back and Caroline feels like she's in the middle of a Mexican standoff because she's pretty sure Damon has no problem ripping her arm off at the socket and throwing Elena over his shoulder.

"Is there a problem?" a new voice says, and Elena relaxes into Caroline before letting go of her and taking Elijah's arm instead.

"Stefan and Damon were_ just leaving_," Elena says, narrowing her eyes at them. The look on Damon's face is positively _bloodthirsty_ and Caroline slips away because if anyone can handle _that _mess, it's Elijah.

She's tiptoeing down an empty corridor when she spies a room with no door and walks inside of it.

There's massive paintings hanging on the walls and she frowns as she recognizes some of them. She mentally adds _art thieves_ under the long list of Original crimes as she stares up at a particularly colorful canvas.

"That painting," Klaus says from behind her; she's silently grateful when she doesn't jump, "has been shown in some of the most famous art galleries in the world."

She doesn't look at him. "Impressive," she says. "Did you buy it or did you compel your way to it?"

"That one, I bought. I tend to not use compulsion when I know I can get what I want," he says and she flushes, not missing the double meaning. She looks down, anywhere but at him, and sees pieces of paper with sketches on them littering the table in front of her. Caroline suddenly feels very shy as she asks, "Are these yours?"

He follows her eyes and his hand goes up to the back of his neck. She blinks in surprise. Is he _embarrassed_? "It's a hobby," he says ruefully. She forces her heart to harden because this is _Klaus_ and he's tormented them for _months_.

"Elena's brother Jeremy draws," she tells him quietly. "So does Tyler." He stiffens slightly and she continues, her voice dropping several degrees in temperature. "But you wouldn't know that, would you? We're all just—just ants to you." She shakes her head a little and drops her gaze back down to the sketches.

"Am I supposed to apologize for trying to get what I want?" he demands and the air around them has shifted from amicable to tense. Caroline pushes a piece of escaped hair behind her ear.

"If what you want hurts people, then yeah," she says, looking him right in the eyes. "You aren't more important than everyone else." His eyes flash and she summons up all her courage to continue, voice soft, "Your happiness doesn't trump everyone else's." She straightens her back, gently unclasps the diamond bracelet on her wrist and holds it out to him. "I appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept this."

"It was a gift," he snaps and she's more than a little scared of him as, once it's clear he won't take it back, she lays it down on top of a sketch. Every instinct she has is screaming at her to run, but she forces herself to stay perfectly serene. Externally, anyway.

"It's beautiful," she tells him as she turns to head to the door. "But I'm afraid I can't be bought."

….

After searching desperately, she finally finds Elena in the bathroom, dabbing at her eyes.

"What happened?" Caroline exclaims, wrapping her arms around her friend.

"Just—they're so _annoying_, Care," she says, voice cracking. "I'm not _stupid_, I'm not going to sell my soul to _Elijah_ and they act like they're in charge of my _life_!"

Caroline strokes Elena's hair for a minute before announcing, "Okay, that's it," and taking Elena's small clutch, digging out the valet stub. "We're leaving."

….

"How was the ball, _princess_?" Dean calls out mockingly as she opens the front door. She sighs, kicks her shoes off and tosses her shawl on the table by the door. Castiel's eyes follow the shawl as it floats to rest on top of the plate her mother tosses spare change into.

"Eventful," she says with a sigh, fingers already working at the back of the dress. She is _so_ ready for pajamas.

Sam is coming out of his room when he sees her. "Hey!" he says eagerly. "How'd it go?"

"Fine, I guess," she mumbles going into her room. Sam follows her, frowning a little.

"Did something happen?" he wants to know and she's about to turn to tell him that she just really wants wash her face and to go to sleep when she spots a small box on her bed.

"_Seriously?_" she snaps, snatching it up and opening it. Sam leans over her shoulder; and she swats at him, mumbling, "Nosy much?"

There's a rolled up slip of paper—"Weird thing to put in a box," Sam remarks—and when she unfurls it, she feels a familiar pull in her stomach.

It's a sketch, but it's _her_, and even though she's got a glass held up to her mouth, she's laughing at something and there's this light in her eyes that makes her wonder if this is how he sees her.

Scrawled at the bottom is: _Thank you for your honesty. Klaus._

"Oh shit," Sam says softly.

"Yeah," she agrees faintly.

...

**tbc.**

* * *

A/N: I realize this might be confusing, so please please please don't hesitate to ask questions! :) Also, pretty please review!


	3. two

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, etc. Title is from the wonderful and fabulous band Explosions in the Sky. Go on, have a listen.

**A/N: **So AU/AH it's not even funny. Also just to reiterate: in this fic, Sam is _**not**_ Lucifer's vessel (and I haven't forgotten Dean/Michael, so just hold on to that thought).

**A/N 2: **For everyone who put this on Story Alert and/or reviewed: thank you! Encouragement is second only to the muse when it comes to writing (and muses are known to be finicky, making encouragement all the more important).

This took me several rewrites (it started out much lighter, but it didn't flow well at all and several scenes multiple pages long were deleted in frustration) so I hope you enjoy. Happy Reading!

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**2.**

"You'd think that after a thousand years, his game would be better," Dean comments dryly through a mouthful of macaroni and cheese. At Caroline's questioning look, he motions to the drawing sitting on the kitchen counter. She rolls her eyes at him and takes a dainty bite of her own pasta.

"Game?" Castiel echoes, looking from Dean to Caroline curiously.

"Yeah, _game_. You know, like…" Dean waves his hands and says, "Like dating." Castiel's face remains blank. Dean tries again, "You know, relationships? Going out? _Wooing?_"

Castiel blinks, and then offers thoughtfully, "Seduction?" Dean chokes on the food he'd been swallowing.

"Better not be any freaking _seduction_ going on," he mutters threateningly after clearing his throat. He shoots a stern look at Caroline, who straightens and says primly, "As _if_."

"I dunno, I kind of like it," Sam says, picking the drawing up as he goes for his second round of mac and cheese. He studies it for a second, then tacks it on the fridge with Liz's Jefferson Memorial magnet. "It's like old-school romance, or something."

"You would like it, Sammy," Dean grumbles, his tone a blend of affection and irritation. "It's totally up your ally."

Caroline snorts as she stands up, grabbing Castiel's empty bowl along with her own and spooning more food into both of them. "It's creepy, is what it is." She hands Castiel his bowl back as she returns to her seat across from Dean. "He left it on my _bed_. Kind of disturbing."

"Hella weird," Dean confirms, and he points at her with his fork. "Think he orchestrated that whole hybrid bite thing as part of some Superman, swoop in and save the day, hero fantasy?"

Caroline freezes mid-chew and gapes at him, eyes wide. "Well, _now_ I do!" she cries. "God, now it's even _creepier_! Thanks a lot!"

"You seem upset," Castiel remarks, eyes focused on her. "These aren't appropriate seduction methods?"

"Again with the _seduction_ thing_—_don't you have a garrison to be ordering around or something? You know, _in Heaven_?" Dean demands, head dropping into his hands exasperatedly.

Castiel looks down. When Caroline sees the expression on his face, she forgets her fear and instinctively puts her hand on his arm, patting gently. She looks over for help at Sam, who seems slightly alarmed.

"Cas?" he begins concernedly. "Is everything…you know, _okay_ between you and the angels?"

Dean's head snaps up and when Castiel is silent, he says in disbelief, "Say _what_? Did they _kick you out_?" If Castiel didn't look so tragic, Caroline would have giggled at the offended outrage in Dean's voice.

"My…association with the two of you—and now you, Caroline," Castiel adds and she blushes a little, "has been determined to be a liability. I was removed from my post."

The three of them exchange glances and Caroline's pretty sure the same realization that's dawning on Sam and Dean's faces is crossing over hers as well. None of them had given much thought as to why Castiel has stuck around for so long—Caroline had even been warming up to him (or at least not cringing every time she met his eyes in fear that her soul was about to go up in flames). She had just figured their constant bickering and sibling in-fighting amused him, like an Animal Planet TV show for angels. _Poor guy_, she thinks sympathetically, her chin dropping into the palm of her hand.

"Screw 'em, buddy," Dean says, clapping Castiel on the shoulder. "Welcome to Team Human." Caroline makes a noise of affronted protest and holds her arms out, gesturing to herself. "Fine," Dean groans, hands going up in defeat. "Team _Earth_. That PC enough for you, Care?"

"Better," she allows.

"The Host won't like that," Castiel states gravely and Dean grimaces. "Yeah, well. Those douchebags stopped getting a say when they kicked you to the damn curb."

…..

"Do you think this means we can, like, _really_ talk to him about everything?" Caroline whispers to Dean as she hands him a clean bowl to towel dry. Sam is explaining the finer points of _The Bachelor_ to Castiel in the living room and Dean leans back to make sure he's adequately distracted.

"Probably," he replies, voice low as he puts the bowl in the cupboard above the sink. "But I still say we should hedge our bets a few more days. Safer than sorry, and all that crap."

"Maybe we should, like, _ease_ into asking about how to have a fighting shot," she suggests. "You know, start off slow and if he gets weird or something…then we'll know he's like a super secret double agent." Dean snorts a little, but bumps her lightly with his shoulder.

"But I don't understand," they hear Castiel say to Sam as Caroline hands Dean the last bowl to dry. She wipes her hands on her jeans and goes into the living room, sitting down next to Sam. "Why do those women want _him_?"

"Because he's The Bachelor," Sam says patiently. "That's kind of the whole point."

Castiel frowns at the TV screen. "But—"

Dean enters and holds up a hand. "Don't even try to understand it, Cas. You'll pull a muscle trying to wrap your brain around it." He reaches for the remote and hits the power button.

"Why was he giving that woman a rose?" Castiel wants to know as the screen goes black.

"Caroline'll explain later," Dean promises, and Caroline sends him an _oh will I?_ look. "I don't even watch _The Bachelor_," she points out crossly. "Sexist."

"Okay, fine, whatever," Dean says impatiently. "Cas, we need to talk."

Sam sits up alertly as Castiel tilts his head expectantly. "What do we need to talk about?"

Meeting Dean's eyes, Sam turns so that he's facing Castiel and says slowly, "It's about the Apocalypse."

No one says anything for a few long seconds until Caroline bursts out, "_Why_ is it happening in Mystic Falls?"

Castiel looks over at her, surprised. "You don't know how full of darkness your town is?" he asks grimly.

She bristles a little and says, "I mean, I know it's got weirder problems than other places, but it's not _so_ bad."

"This town attracts the unnatural," Castiel says, eyes intense on hers. "Vampires, werewolves, demons—they are all drawn here."

Okay, Caroline can definitely buy that—Katherine and the tomb vampires in 1864; Stefan, Damon, and that horrible Sage woman in 1912; Stefan again in the 1960s and then _now_; Elena; the Bennett witches; and the Lockwood family. The puzzle pieces fall easily into place. "But why though?"

He turns his gaze back to the blank television screen. "A thousand years ago, there was a spell cast here; a spell so dark that it cursed the very ground," he says, deep voice quiet and eyes slightly unfocused;_ we really _are_ on a Hellmouth_, Caroline thinks, awestruck. "It still reverberates to this day, drawing supernatural creatures like a magnet."

_A thousand years_—"Hang on a second," she breathes. "You're talking about—"

He looks at her sharply. "The spell that created the vampire race, yes."

It's so quiet that Caroline can hear her next-door neighbors discussing the intricacies of stock trading with perfect clarity, until Sam says hoarsely, "_What_?"

"Vampirism was created by a spell," Castiel tells him. "A spell that called not only for human sacrifice, but also the death of those turning. It created a race of beings that feeds on the blood of others to survive. Magic that great and terrible marks the place as it does the witch. It is very dark and _very_ powerful."

Elena had told her the bare details of the Originals' background—like how their mother had used the blood of the girl Klaus and Elijah both loved to bind the spell together and how it's _her_ face that Elena and Katherine share. But Caroline's pretty sure Rebekah failed to mention _this_.

"So the Host of Heaven's plan is to come here and pick a fight?" Sam asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed.

"Kill enough supernatural beings and all their buddies come running for revenge," Dean says slowly. "But then what? Move on to the next place and watch every human get caught in the crossfire until there's nowhere left to go?"

"Of course not," Castiel says, head tilting at them as though they are all children (which, Caroline supposes, they probably are—_Klaus_ is a child when compared to him). "That would take far too long. Once the battle of Mystic Falls is won, they will release Lucifer."

….

The giant illustrated Bible Caroline's grandmother had given to her when she was little (the same one that had shown angels as soft protectors with affectionate smiles) had portrayed the devil in the most concrete and obvious of ways—red all over, horns, pointy tail, pitchfork, with great black eyes and surrounded by fire.

When she still went to Sunday school, one of her teachers had collected the class's coloring assignment of the scene where Jesus is tempted by the (red, horned, pointy tailed) devil and had studied it before she said, _That wouldn't work very well for temptation, now would it? _The class had blinked up at her and she had explained in a kind voice, _Only beautiful things are tempting._

Caroline can see Sam's mouth moving but she can't hear the words over the roaring in her ears. _How are we supposed to even _survive_ this, _she wonders desperately. First angels, now Lucifer? Her heart is beating so fast that if she were still alive, she would worry she was having a heart attack.

She focuses on Sam's voice asking Castiel, "But that doesn't make any sense, Cas. The Host plans to kill a bunch of demons to set Lucifer free on earth…where he'll make more demons?"

Castiel blinks at him and says calmly, "The purpose of the battle of Mystic Falls will be to eliminate non-demonic creatures: werewolves, witches, vampires—there are of course many others, but those seem to be the main species that concern you. If demons get in the way, they will be killed, but they are not the target."

Caroline's head is spinning, Sam's face has lost all color, and Dean is gripping the sides of his chair so hard his knuckles are turning bone white.

"How're we even supposed to fight this thing?" she whispers scratchily; she's thinking back to her birthday, when she had been so bitter about Elena, Bonnie, Jeremy and Matt getting to lead normal lives together—her insides knot together tightly. She'd give _anything_ now to ensure that their lives aren't snatched from them as hers was.

She's so lost in desperate, terrified imaginings of a horrible and bleak future that she almost misses what Castiel says next.

"I'm going to help you."

…...

She drives straight to Bonnie's, ordering Elena to drop whatever she's doing and meet her there, _now_. She is taking zero chances that any unwanted vampires walk in on this conversation and tells Bonnie to light up some sage for a silencing spell just in case anyone's lurking around.

"You're really scaring me," Bonnie says worriedly as Elena enters her bedroom, gently fanning the smoke from the burning sage. "What's happened?"

"Something really bad," Caroline blurts out tearfully, her words coming out in short bursts as she tries unsuccessfully to hold the hysterics at bay. "The spell that turned the Originals—it cursed Mystic Falls—and the angels—they want to slaughter as many supernatural beings as possible—and then they're—they're gonna release _Lucifer_ to—to finish everyone else off—" She cuts herself off, hands going to her mouth, as if by stopping the torrent of words, they will cease to be true.

Elena and Bonnie gape at her, until Bonnie says unsteadily, "I think I might be sick."

"Oh my _God_," Elena moans, head dropping into her hands. "What—what are we supposed to _do_? We can't fight this!"

Caroline swallows hard and says through erratic breaths, "Castiel—the angel that pulled Dean out of Hell—the other angels kicked him out and he says he's going to help—"

"We need to get everyone out of Mystic Falls," Bonnie breaks in forcefully, grabbing Emily Bennett's grimoire out from one of her dresser drawers, where it had been resting underneath a pile of t-shirts. "Everyone normal, we have to find a way to make them leave town." She starts flipping through yellowing pages with almost terrifying ferocity.

"We have to get Klaus's hybrids back," Elena adds in a whisper as she stands and starts to pace. "We have to get them back and that means we have to tell the Originals about all of this."

Silence falls as the air around them crackles with fear and adrenaline. Bonnie stops rifling through the grimoire and Elena looks up at the ceiling in desperation. Caroline is staring blankly at Bonnie's headboard.

"This does qualify as a worst case scenario," Bonnie says softly.

"I'll do it," Caroline volunteers quietly, her mind drifting back to the sketch Sam had hung on their fridge. _Thank you for your honesty._

"No," Elena says immediately and Bonnie agrees fervently, "No one is walking into that lion's den alone. Get your stuff."

…..

Caroline's fingers are tapping the wheel in a jittery rhythm as her car makes its way down the long and winding Mikaelson driveway; Elena reaches over and puts her hand over Caroline's. "It's gonna be fine," she says, voice soothing.

"Right. Fine," Caroline echoes, trying to convince herself of just that. She doesn't even want to think about what Sam and Dean's reactions to this will be. "Are we sure this is a good idea?"

"Strength in numbers," Elena says, staring out the window as the Mikaelson mansion looms in front of them ominously. "The more help we have on our side, the better our odds get."

"But this seems like we're playing right into the angels' plans," Caroline protests worriedly, parking the car next to that ridiculous fountain (because seriously, who needs a giant fountain in their front yard?). "The whole point of starting the Apocalypse in Mystic Falls is because it like naturally lures supernatural stuff here—and the angels want to _kill_ them." _Us_, she amends silently.

"It's a risk we have to take," Bonnie says firmly as they get out of Caroline's car. "If we're going to have any kind of fighting chance, we need more than just us, Stefan and Damon, Dean and Sam and one wayward angel." Caroline notices the distinct lack of Jeremy and Alaric in her statement; and she has to agree with that, especially where Jeremy is concerned. She bites her lip and when she catches Bonnie's eye, she tilts her head subtly in Elena's direction. Bonnie's mouth hardens into a straight line and she nods once. Elena is far too breakable to stick around for this.

"Everyone ready?" Elena asks, turning to them before reaching for the doorbell. She hesitates briefly, and then presses it. It chimes loudly behind the door and Caroline holds her breath until it opens.

It's Elijah and he masks his surprise like a pro. "Ladies," he says genially, stepping aside and holding his hand out. "What a pleasant surprise."

"This isn't a social call," Bonnie informs him coldly, swishing by him in dislike. Elena manages to smile at him faintly and Caroline just sort of bobs her head in lieu of a greeting as he closes the door behind them.

"Is it just you?" Elena asks, glancing around the ornate front hall.

"Niklaus is here somewhere," Elijah tells her courteously, "but Rebekah and Kol are out for the night and Finn is on a trip out of town. Please, make yourselves comfortable in the living room." He pauses as he leads them into the richly decorated living room, which looks way too expensive to Caroline for it to be really livable. She feels Elijah's gaze pass over her face before he says inquiringly, "Shall I get Niklaus, then?"

All three of them stiffen simultaneously in their already rigidly postured seats and exchange looks. "Yes," Elena confirms, turning her face back to Elijah. "You should probably get him too."

Elijah vanishes into the depths of the house; as soon as he is gone, Bonnie lets out a giant _whoosh_ of air. "I hate this," she mutters, wrapping her arms around herself and shuddering.

"Lesser of two evils," Elena reminds her.

"Oh come now, Elena darling," Klaus says pleasantly, appearing out of nowhere, glass in hand and Elijah next to him. "Surely we aren't all that terrible."

"Actually," Elena snaps back, crossing her arms, voice matching Bonnie's for chilliness, "You are. But we have a bigger problem right now."

"And what might that be?" he asks easily, swirling what Caroline has no doubt is blood around in his crystal glass. Elena glances at Caroline who swallows hard before she takes over, saying simply, eyes downcast, "The Apocalypse." She winces as her voice trembles slightly and Elena wraps her hand around Caroline's.

"I can assure you, the Apocalypse is nothing more than a myth," Elijah tells her dismissively, and she bristles at the condescension in his voice.

"Tell that to the _angel_ who's been sleeping on my couch for the past week," she snaps at him irritably, briefly forgetting that this is Elijah—an ancient vampire who can turn pennies into missiles with a flick of his wrist.

"And the witches confirmed it," Bonnie adds sharply. "This isn't a joke. It's the _Apocalypse_."

Klaus's face has gone entirely serious and Elijah is considering them intently.

"I think," he says slowly, "You had better start from the beginning."

Caroline _so_ does not want to spill her life's story to arguably the two scariest Originals, but four pairs of eyes are focused on her so she searches for the most succinct summary possible.

"My stepbrother Dean d-died a few months ago," she begins, tripping slightly over the word _died_. Klaus's eyebrows slash together. "An angel pulled him out of Hell and Castiel—the angel who saved him—told him about the Apocalypse. The Host of Heaven wants to set _Lucifer_ on the world."

"Why are you telling us this?" Klaus demands, eyes focused intently on hers; but it's Elena who responds.

"We want you to bring your hybrids back," she informs him. "But _just_ until this is over," she adds fiercely. "Afterwards, they're gone."

Klaus sends a smirk Elena's way—making Caroline flinch inwardly because she really wishes he had never shown her at the ball that he could be a halfway normal person; she's pretty sure now he'll always disappoint her—and says silkily, "I'd be more than happy to oblige, sweetheart, but that's something you'll have to take up with your boyfriend."

Elena seethes at him and says bitingly, "I'll take care of Stefan. Just bring them back."

Klaus raises his glass slightly in her direction. "Your wish is my command."

Elijah's hands are in his pockets as he asks contemplatively, "Is there anything specific you'd like for us to do?"

Caroline blinks at him in surprise. "Um," she says intelligently, looking at Bonnie for help. "Research? You've got to have tons of contacts that might be able to help, right?"

"I'll make some calls," he says, inclining his head at them as he slips away silently.

"Who else knows about this?" Klaus wants to know, setting his glass on the elaborate mantle above the fireplace.

Caroline ticks the names off on her fingers, "The three of us, Dean and Sam, Castiel, my mom, Damon—and I guess Damon told Stefan?" She shoots Elena a questioning look for confirmation; when Elena nods back, she finishes, "And now the two of you."

"Good," he approves shortly. "Let's try and keep this under wraps then, shall we, girls?"

Bonnie and Elena send him matching scowls and Caroline just shakes her head.

….

"You did _what_?" Dean nearly bellows and Castiel looks at him, alarmed.

"Look," Caroline says, flipping the stove on and settling Liz's electric blue teakettle onto a burner. "It was inevitable, okay? And Bonnie had a point—we need help. It can't just be us five, plus Damon and Stefan. That wouldn't be a war, it'd be a slaughter." She leaves Liz out of the equation because her mother will _not_ be participating, even if Caroline has to compel her herself.

Dean opens his mouth, presumably for more yelling, when Sam says tiredly, "She's probably right, Dean. We can't do this by ourselves."

"We're not by ourselves," he retorts, gesturing at Castiel. "We've got our own set of wings!"

"It is probably for the best," Castiel says nonchalantly and the betrayed look Dean shoots at him is almost comical.

Seeing his support dwindle, he switches tactics. "I can't believe you went there by yourself," he gripes at her.

"I wasn't by myself," she informs him. "Elena and Bonnie went too."

"Because that's _so_ much better."

"Dean," she says exasperatedly as the kettle starts to hum lowly. "They've got a thousand years worth of experience and contacts. They can _help_ us. No one's asking you to hold their hands and invite them to a sleepover. Besides," she pulls out a box of teabags and picks out four, "Elijah's way too honorable to let Klaus hold me hostage in their house."

Dean's jaw works. "I'm telling Liz about this," he threatens, and she knows he's out of arguments.

"Go ahead," she tells him as she pulls mugs out of the cabinet. The humming of the teakettle increases in pitch. "She's the one who invited Klaus in to begin with."

…..

"Few things can kill an angel," Castiel tells them gravely as they stand in the backyard, a variety of weapons scattered around their feet. Caroline is sitting cross-legged with a legal pad resting on one knee; she's taking it upon herself to scribble down anything Elijah and Klaus might be able to help get a hold of. Castiel shows them a long dagger and says, "This called an Angel Killing Sword." Caroline writes neatly on the first line: _angel-killing sword_.

Dean snorts. "Kind of literal, don't you think?"

Castiel looks at him bemusedly. "Of course it's literal." Caroline giggles a little and writes in parentheses: _(actual name)_. Dean rolls his eyes and waves his hand for Castiel to continue.

"Most angels carry one," he says, handing it to Sam. "But humans may use them as well, if they can find them."

"Wouldn't an angel have to had lost a fight with someone in order for a human to get their hands on one of these?" Sam asks logically, passing the sword on to Dean.

"Yes," Castiel confirms. "That is why they are so rare among your kind." He picks up a jar with handles on either side and examines it before giving it to Sam.

"This is Holy Oil," he says (Caroline writes _Holy oil_ on the second line of her piece of paper). "It is exceptionally rare, even more so than the Angel Killing Sword." Caroline grimaces and adds: _hard to find_. "It can only be obtained in Jerusalem." (_Only in Jerusalem_). "When poured in a circle and set ablaze, it will act as the binding agent in angelic imprisonment."

"Like a Devil's Trap," Dean offers as, frowning at the jar as he handles it. "Is this all there is of it?"

"No," Castiel answers easily. "It's just difficult to acquire. May I?" He holds his hand out to Caroline, eyes on her paper. She silently rips him off a sheet and hands him her pen.

He starts to draw something, saying, "This is a Banishing Sigil. It must be drawn with human blood, and when a hand is placed in the middle, angels are briefly banished from the area." He gives Caroline her pen back and shows the drawing to Sam and Dean.

As Sam and Dean inspect the sigil, Castiel squints up at the sky. "Angels also have the ability to locate people—yes," he adds when Caroline starts to speak, "Even vampires. This makes you all particularly vulnerable."

The three of them exchange uneasy glances. "Is there like a spell or something to fix that?" Caroline ventures hopefully.

"Not a spell, but there is a sigil," he says, eyes fixed upwards. Dean thrusts the paper back to him. "So draw it! We'll put it on the walls—"

"No," Castiel cuts him off. "In order to work, it must be carved _into_ the person who wishes to be hidden."

Dean starts rolling up his sleeve as Sam and Caroline watch interestedly. When Dean offers him his forearm Castiel frowns and touches his shoulder.

Instantly, Dean's hands fly to his torso and he doubles over, yelping in pain. "Dude! What the _hell?_"

"The sigil is etched on your ribs," Castiel informs him calmly. "Not even I could locate you without assistance." Sam only briefly hesitates before waving Castiel over.

When Castiel turns to where Caroline is sitting, a questioning expression on his face, she says unhappily, "It'll just heal, so what's the point?"

He shakes his head. "This won't," he assures her and gently touches her shoulder.

White hot pain shoots through her ribcage so sharply that tears fill her eyes; then it's gone and she stares down at herself. _Well, at least now running is a feasible option._

"Can you do this to Bonnie and Elena too?" she asks him hopefully.

He furrows his brow at her. "Of course," he says agreeably.

…..

Even though Bonnie had vehemently sworn that none of them would go to the Mikaelson mansion alone, Caroline finds herself sitting in her car, parked in the Originals' circular driveway.

"Woman up, Forbes," she orders herself, squaring her shoulders and grabbing her bag. She wrenches herself out of her car and marches up to the front door, ringing the bell before she can talk herself out of it.

The youngest brother, a total Diet Elijah (his name escapes her and he's seriously just a more compact, more _unhinged_ version of Elijah, so whatever), answers the door.

"I remember you from the ball," he drawls, grinning at her before she can say anything. "You're the pretty little thing that had my brother in a fury for hours after you left. Few people can work Nik into such a glorious tizzy. I quite like you."

She blinks at him and he gestures grandly for her to come inside. "I'm Kol," he announces, thrusting his hand at her.

"Caroline," she says back, cautiously shaking it.

His grin widens and he says, "Pleasure, _Car-o-line_," sounding out her name like it's some exotic word he's never encountered. "What brings you to our humble abode?"

She rolls her eyes and says, "Is Elijah here?" She'd _so_ much rather deal with Elijah's aloofness than with Klaus's mood swings.

His face turns impishly mischievous and he reminds her a little of Puck from when she read _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ last year in English. "Already forsaken dear Nik, darling?"

Caroline grits her teeth and says, "_Or_ Klaus?"

"I'm afraid, sweetheart, that neither one is here at the moment. But you're more than welcome to stay until they return."

"Do you know when that'll be, exactly?" she asks, checking the time on her phone and frowning. If she's gone too long, Sam and Dean will notice and Dean will _definitely_ throw a fit when she gets back.

"Not the foggiest, darling," Kol says airily. "Fancy a snack?" He disappears before she can answer.

Her eyes narrow in suspicion until he returns, holding two glasses of blood and offering one to her. She takes it but doesn't drink.

"Oh, say it isn't so," he groans sadly. "You're one of _those_ vampires?"

She bristles. "What does that even mean?"

"Tell me, lovely Caroline. Do you only eat small, defenseless forest animals?" His eyes are wide and beguiling.

She scowls at him. "_No_, but I'd rather eat defenseless forest animals than defenseless _people_."

He brightens immediately. "Magnificent. Rest assured, this," he gestures to the two glasses, "is courtesy of the recent Mystic Falls Hospital blood drive." When her eyebrows shoot up, he says sensibly, "Can't have bodies dropping everywhere, now can we? Might look a wee bit _suspicious_."

Despite herself, she's smiling a little until she hears Klaus say indignantly from behind her, "_What_ are you doing, Kol?"

Kol tips his glass at Klaus and says brightly, "Having a drink with my new friend Caroline, dear brother. How were your oh-so-urgent errands?"

"Fine," Klaus spits out. "Leave, Kol."

Kol gives him a look of mock hurt before turning to Caroline and taking her free hand in his. "Lovely to meet you, darling. Do come by and visit me again." With that, he vanishes.

Before she can stop herself, Caroline snorts. At Klaus's questioning look, she shrugs and pulls her list out of her bag, handing it to him.

As he scans it, Caroline tilts her head up, staring at the impossibly high vaulted ceiling. She traces the thin edges of her glass absently, jumping a little when Klaus says, "Is there anything else you need, Caroline?"

She bites her lip and dives in before she can think better of it. "Yeah, actually. There's this thing that keeps angels from finding people." Her hand subconsciously goes to her ribcage; when she sees his eyes following it, she immediately drops her arm back to her side. "It's carved on your ribs."

His eyebrows go up as she continues, "I think you—and Elijah—should have it. It hurts but I think it'll be worth it because, you know…" she trails off and then, feeling a little dumb, finishes, "Hiding, and all that."

Klaus looks amused at her fumbling. "I appreciate your concern, sweetheart."

She hesitates before going on, "If you could…not tell anyone I was here—that'd be great," she says; and when his face darkens, she hastily explains, "It's just—my stepbrothers—you know how it is. It's not—well, it's not _all_ you." She pauses and then says, "Dean thought your drawing was creepy and Sam put it on the fridge." God, she has so not rehearsed this part.

He laughs out loud at that and the corners of her mouth tick up at the sound. "And what did you think of it?" he wants to know, his arms crossing over his chest.

Caroline's finger goes back to circling the top of her glass. "I don't know what to think about it," she tells him honestly, voice thoughtful. "But I do know you make it really hard to like you when you threaten the people I care about." There is no bite to her voice.

She wavers slightly before saying, "And I have no idea why you like me—we're _so_ different. You…you've destroyed lives and ruined families, and when I—I killed someone I _hated_ myself."

"But that's exactly why I like you," he tells her quietly. "You're _good_, Caroline, and beautiful and strong and full of light."

Warmth hums along her veins and she wishes she weren't so flattered, because this is _Klaus,_ who killed Jenna, who killed Tyler and _Elena_. She grabs hold of that thought.

"I have to go," she says reservedly and she holds the glass full of untouched blood out to him. As he takes it, his fingers brush hers and she pretends not to notice (even though she knows that _he_ knows she did). As she leaves, she pushes down on that infuriating pull in the bottom of her stomach that always seems to occur when she talks to him.

Caroline definitely won't be telling anyone she stopped by.

…..

The next night as Dean is grousing about how Sam bought _chick beer_ and Castiel wants to know how chickens could possibly relate to alcohol, Stefan Salvatore knocks on the Forbes-Winchester door.

Sam answers it, rolling his eyes as Dean yells from the living room, "I hope that's Chuck Norris, here to take away your Man Card!" When he sees Stefan with his hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched, Sam's jaw sets.

From her spot curled up on the couch, Caroline hears Stefan say, "Uh—hey, Sam," and this has to be about Klaus's stupid hybrids, but Caroline has a massive bone to pick with him before they can even pretend to be friends again. "Is—is Caroline home, by any chance?"

There's no answer for a beat and Caroline thinks Sam must be remembering how hard she had taken it when Stefan had decided to revert back to being a mass murder, not to mention the things she had said he _did _to people. "You need to leave," she hears Sam say, and he's about to slam the door unceremoniously in Stefan's face when Caroline flashes beside him. "What do _you_ want?" she demands, voice icy. She swears to _God_ if he says those freaking hybrids, she'll bash his skull in.

Stefan shifts from side to side. "Just—can we talk for a second?" His eyes slide over to where Sam is leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and expression threatening. "Go ahead," Sam invites coolly, giving no indication that he's moving.

Caroline doesn't even bother trying to shoo him away. "What do you want to talk about, Stefan? You want to talk about how you nearly drove my best friend, your _girlfriend_, off the bridge where her _parents_ died? Or do you wanna talk about the people whose limbs you ripped off? Or what about—"

Stefan is wincing painfully as he holds up his hands in surrender. "Believe me, Care, I know—"

"Oh, you _know_?" she echoes, voice going low and quiet, eyes flashing. "You _know_? No, Stefan, I don't think you _know_." She advances on him; he looks almost relieved, like he's been waiting for this. "Yeah, it was incredibly, _unbelievably_ selfless of you to sacrifice yourself for Damon. Trust me, I get that and I admire you for it. But you've been back to you—the _old_ you, for what, a month now? And you can't muster up the balls to even _apologize_ to Elena? And believe me, Stefan, that's the absolute least of what you should do. Do you even have the slightest _clue_ how hard Damon and I had to work to keep her from falling apart?" She takes in a ragged breath and when he opens his mouth to respond, she snaps, "I'm not _done_."

It takes Caroline a few moments to swallow the lump that's threatening to take over her throat and force her words out. "You didn't just hurt Elena, Stefan," she says flatly. "You promised to _take care_ of me, to _help_ me. So where've you been? Where were you when Tyler _bit_ me and I was _dying_? Where were you _after_?"

She stops when she realizes that tears are streaming down her face; Sam pulls her back into the house and repeats to Stefan, "You need to leave." The door swings shut as she unsuccessfully tries to wipe away tear tracks with her sleeves. When the lock clicks, she finds herself straight up sobbing into Sam's shirt.

"Who the hell was that?" Dean demands from somewhere behind her.

"That," Sam sighs, arms tightening slightly around her, one hand stroking her hair comfortingly, "was Stefan Salvatore."

"Damn," Dean says slowly. "That whole family's just full of dicks, huh?"

…..

Caroline crawls into bed not long after that, exhausted and emotionally spent. She curls herself into the smallest ball she can manage and tucks her chin into her neck.

She's trying to force her mind to stop reliving the scene from the front porch when there is a light knock on the door.

"Caroline, honey?" Liz Forbes calls softly, cracking the door open slightly. "Are you still awake?"

Caroline lifts her head a little and when Liz sees the movement, she slips into the room, door shutting quietly behind her.

Her mother sits down on the side of the bed and brings her hand to Caroline's forehead. "Sam told me what happened tonight," she says gently, brushing loose strands of hair out of Caroline's eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Caroline shakes her head, but does look up at her. "Can I ask you something, Mom?" Liz nods, fingers still ghosting over her hair.

"Do you ever wish this wasn't our lives?"

Liz's fingers pause and she gives a small laugh. "Oh, honey. About twenty times a day—on a _good_ day." She considers Caroline for a minute before saying, "Part of why I fell for John was because I thought he could protect us—could protect _you_, especially seeing how hard he tried with Dean and Sam." She sighs. "I didn't want this to be your life, sweetie."

Caroline sniffles a little. "Why didn't we just _move?_"

"Well," Liz says, her eyes taking on a far-away quality. "We're a Founding Family, Care. And, selfish though it may be, I always knew that I wanted to do everything I could to defend this town." She looks down at Caroline's floor. "It was incredibly naïve of me to think that I could shield you from all of it, especially after John died and we couldn't keep everything from you anymore." Guilt starts to seep into her face and she continues, "I should have seen that something was off with you last year, when you were with Damon Salvatore. I'm so sorry, honey."

Caroline blinks back more tears. "He was really good at covering his tracks," she tells Liz quietly, taking her mother's hand in both of her own.

"When you were in the hospital after the car accident, the doctors—" Liz looks away and takes in a shaky breath. "They weren't very optimistic. And then, not twenty-four hours after getting out of surgery, you were miraculously fine. I should have put it together, should've realized—" They're both crying a little now. "But I was just so relieved that you were going to be okay, it never even crossed my mind—"

"_Mom_," Caroline says fiercely. "It—this wasn't your fault, okay? It was a…" she searches for the right words because _accident_ doesn't really work since she was basically murdered, "a series of unfortunate events," she finishes weakly.

Liz looks down at her and then sighs before kissing her forehead. "Get some sleep, Care," she advises, her voice tender, before leaving quietly.

Caroline lets her eyes drift shut and the words _beautiful, strong, full of light_ drift across her mind before she gives in to sleep.

….

**tbc.**

* * *

**A/N: **Please, please, please review! It really does speed up the writing process.


	4. three

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, neither SPN nor TVD are mine. Title is from Explosions in the Sky, who should absolutely be a staple in your music library.

**A/N:** Still AU/AH. There's a few random pop culture references thrown in throughout this chapter—hope you recognize them (and don't just think I'm crazy when you read over them). As always, if anything is confusing, please let me know!

Also, I have exams next week, so there probably won't be an update until next weekend—I'd say Thursday at the _absolute_ earliest. Enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**3.**

Caroline is sitting across from Sam in a booth at the Mystic Grill, her nose deep in her English assignment, pen occasionally scratching down notes. He hadn't said anything when she declined to help research ways to fight angels in favor of her English paper, but she isn't incredibly surprised by that. After all, Sam is the one who went to Stanford instead of hunting demons—the one who eschewed exorcisms and sawed-off shotguns for beer pong and late nights at the library pouring over law textbooks. Out of everyone, she knows Sam probably gets it the most. Understands that in spite of everything, she's holding out hope for Georgetown, Class of 2016. She doesn't ask what he's finding and he doesn't offer—a mutual pact of silence, for now at least.

They both are so engrossed in their own doings that they jump in unison when Matt drops down tiredly into the open seat next to Caroline for his break. Sam discreetly shifts his computer screen away and raises his eyebrows at Matt. "Everything okay?"

"I'm beat," Matt groans, reaching for one of Caroline's cheese fries and rubbing his forehead. She makes a sympathetic noise and he zeroes in on the book in her hand as she neatly folds the corner of her page down.

"Care, that paper isn't due for a week," he says half-exasperated, half fond. "It's _Saturday._"

She scowls at him, but her heart isn't in it. "Yeah, and Lauren Peterson is dead-set on knocking me out of the salutatorian spot, which is _so_ not happening. Besides, you have to actually _read_ the book before you can write the paper."

Matt closes his eyes and leans his head against the back of the booth. "Have you talked to Tyler lately?" he asks, way too casually, and Caroline's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"No," she says pointedly and her voice drops in volume. "Seeing as how we broke up because he _drugged_ me."

"Hold on, _what_?" Sam demands, snapping to attention, his jaw tightening. Matt glances at him and rushes to explain.

"We were going after Klaus, Care! He didn't—he vervained you to _protect_ you," he says defensively, eyeing the look on Sam's face warily. "He—"

"I can protect _myself_," she informs him crisply. "And I _definitely_ don't need someone to make my decisions for me."

"Care—"

"Matt, I know you're just trying to be a good friend," she says more gently, her hand going to his arm and her voice turning mollifying. "It's very—_noble_ of you. But if Tyler wants this conversation to happen, he should come talk to me, not you. It isn't really your business, and it definitely isn't your fight, okay?"

Matt sighs as he stands up to return to work, expression defeated. "Just—talk to him, okay? He's kind of a mess."

Once Matt is gone, Sam arches his eyebrows at her. "Want to explain what that was about? Or do I have to pull out the brother card and beat someone's ass?"

Caroline rolls her eyes at him. "No ass-beating," she orders firmly. "He had good intentions, but a bad plan and even worse execution." She pauses before adding more quietly, "And I _hate_ having my choices taken away."

Sam groans and stretches out in the booth, hand reaching to shift his laptop back in place. "You have the absolute _worst_ taste in guys," he tells her fondly, pulling his phone out as it begins to chirp. Caroline sees Dean's name on the screen before Sam answers, sliding out of the booth. "Hey," he says into the speaker, catching Caroline's eye and nodding his head to the door before he walks through it.

Caroline reopens her book and picks her pen back up, determined to refocus her attention on writing this paper—but her eyes wander over to where Sam is pacing in front of the Grill. His face is taut with worry and his knuckles on the hand that is gripping his phone are white. She wonders what has gone wrong now, because they seriously can_not_ catch a damn break.

She tells him as much when he climbs back into their booth. He sighs and starts to pack up his stuff, shutting his laptop down and unplugging its charger. Catching his drift, she shuts her book and caps her pen, pulling her bag from its spot beside her onto the table. "Dean and I have to go to D.C.," he tells her, wrapping the cord into a tight ball and shoving into his bag. She freezes, staring at him and feeling very much like someone has just thrown ice water in her face.

"You're _leaving_?"

Sam glances up and stops rustling through the notes he had been scribbling when he sees her wide eyes. "We'll just be a day or two," he assures her, hand reaching over to grip her shoulder. "And Cas will stay here with you. You'll be fine."

Caroline knows he thinks that he's being comforting by telling her that but it _so_ doesn't help. She opens her mouth to inform him as much when he says sympathetically, "Take it up with Dean, okay?"

...

"We've got to go, Care," and Caroline scowls because Dean's response is an exact duplicate of Sam's. Both Winchesters are gathering rifles and huge containers of salt and her chest tightens, worry spiking through her veins.

"What's so important in D.C. that you're packing an entire arsenal _and_ dropping Apocalypse survival training?" she cries, hand shooting out to hold down the long, iron dagger Sam is reaching for. He pulls his hand back and sighs, looking at Dean helplessly.

"It's _maximum_ two days. Probably less than that," Dean assures her, coming over to her and dropping both hands onto her shoulders. She's so not reassured, especially since the total number of days being spent on this trip have gone up. "You'll be fine. And Cas—"

"—_is staying here_," she says along with him. "Yeah, Sam mentioned that. Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn't!"

"Do I still frighten you?" Castiel wants to know and she nearly jumps out of her skin at his sudden appearance at Dean's side.

"You do when you just—_Apparate_ out of nowhere!" she exclaims, her eyes shutting briefly and her hand going to her heart.

Castiel frowns at her and, then says to Dean in an undertone, "I don't understand. What is Apparating?"

Dean waves his hand dismissively and says, "Nothing real, so don't worry about it." He folds his arms over his chest and gives Caroline and Castiel a brief once-over before shaking his head. Sam zips up the second of the two duffels and hands one to Dean as they start heading towards the door.

"Just so we're clear," Caroline fumes as she follows them to the Impala; in her peripheral vision, she sees Castiel falling in step next to her, face curious. "You're leaving in the middle of—"

Sam glances around furtively before saying lowly, "It has something to do with that, Care." He pops the trunk on the Impala and slings his duffel bag inside.

That stops her in her tracks. Until—"Then why isn't Castiel going? And why can't you tell me what's going on?"

"Too conspicuous," Castiel supplies helpfully, and Dean points at him approvingly.

"Give the man a prize. And you'd just freak out and worry, Caroline, because you always forget that this is our _job_. It's just another day at the office," Dean says, grimacing as he slams the trunk shut. Turning towards them, he rubs his hands together and channels John Winchester. "Listen up, you two." Caroline resists the urge to roll her eyes at him and instead sneaks a look at Castiel. He has an almost comical look of attentiveness on his face.

"You first, Precious Moments," Dean says, gesturing to Castiel. "Your job is to make sure freaky Dracu-douche doesn't kidnap her ass, got it?" At the bewildered look on Castiel's face, Dean pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Sammy, _help_," he groans.

Sam grins and points at Castiel, translating, "You baby-sit her." Caroline's mouth drops open in offense as he swings his finger in her direction. "And you baby-sit him. Don't burn the house down."

Dean nods appreciatively. "What he said." He fiddles with the Impala keys before holding an arm out and, irritation momentarily forgotten in favor of worry, Caroline steps into it.

"Just make sure you come back in one piece, okay?" she says in his ear, arms looping around his neck. His arms tighten around her briefly before he lets go and ruffles her hair fondly.

"You got it," he says, and when Sam hugs her, he promises, "We'll be fine. Don't worry."

They both climb into the Impala, doors shutting in unison as the engine starts to rumble. She and Castiel watch as Dean backs the car out of the driveway and turns onto their street, the car eventually disappearing down the road.

Caroline turns to Castiel. "I could use a drink," she announces, because seriously, the end of the world is coming and she can't really think about the fact that Dean and Sam just left on some mission that requires enough weapons for a small army. She _really_ needs a drink or ten. "You down?"

He looks down at his feet before saying bemusedly, "Actually, it would appear that I'm _up_."

She snorts and says, "No, what I meant was—I'm going to go get a drink. Of the alcoholic variety. Do you want to come with me?"

His brow furrows slightly. "I don't drink alcohol," he tells her gravely.

She blinks at him in surprise before saying sunnily, "Well, now's as good a time as any to start!"

…

"You don't _look_ like an angel," Damon comments critically, circling Castiel suspiciously. "Where are your wings?" He shoots Caroline an accusatory look. "I was promised _wings_."

She scoffs at him as she rummages through his liquor cabinet. "I'd have no problem if you decided to smite him," she says to Castiel, spying the good whiskey in the back and pulling it out. "You'd be doing the world a favor, really. Where's Stefan?" She unscrews the cap and pours two drinks, handing one to Castiel.

"Still trying to talk Elena out of this hybrid summoning. He should be on his way back soon. And speaking of Stefan," he plucks the whiskey bottle away from her indignantly. "He came back from your house the other night looking like a sad, kicked puppy. He wrote in that stupid journal for _hours_; it was _so_ boring. I think he might have cried. So whatever you said," Damon salutes her with the bottle, "I commend you."

"God, you would," she grumbles, tilting her glass up and letting a sizeable swallow of whiskey burn down her throat. Coughing a little and her eyes watering, she gestures to Castiel. "The point of drinking is to, you know, _drink_."

"But you don't seem to have enjoyed it," he points out, eyeing his glass warily. "I don't see the point."

Caroline takes another sip, her insides warming. "Not everything has to have a point, Cas," she says sagely, and she's totally lying because the point—right now, at least—is to forget what's coming while they can still afford to. Damon smirks and calls her out.

"Wrong, Barbie. The _point_," and he jabs the bottle in Castiel's direction for emphasis, "is to get _drunk_." Castiel looks down into his glass and hesitantly takes a small sip.

"Cheers," she says, raising her glass to him and with a long swallow, she empties it.

…

"What's Hell like?" Caroline wonders out loud, stirring her fourth—maybe fifth? She's lost count—round with her finger absently. She looks over questioningly at Castiel, who is still nursing his first glass, face screwing up in distaste with every tiny sip.

Damon winces from his spot on the floor, cradling the empty whiskey bottle next to him. "Way to kill the mood, _Barbie_."

Both Caroline and Castiel act as though he hadn't spoken. "You don't want to know," Castiel tells her grimly, staring into the Salvatore fireplace and not meeting her eyes.

She pushes herself forward in her seat, swaying slightly, and says, a little despairingly, "It was really bad for him, wasn't it." It isn't a question.

"It's bad for everyone," he says in lieu of answering.

"I," Damon announces, standing slightly unsteadily, "am not listening to this _morbid_ conversation." He drunkenly makes his way out of the living room, shooting Caroline a glare as he leaves.

"But you pulled him out," Caroline says, ignoring Damon's departure, eyes fixed on Castiel. Her words run together slightly. "You _saved_ him."

His gaze shifts from the fireplace to his shoes and is he _blushing_? "You saved him," Caroline repeats firmly. "You don't know what that means to me. To Sam." She reaches forward and squeezes his hand, wondering why she was ever afraid of him because really, he's a teddy bear. Or she could be just drunk.

Castiel looks at where her fingers are grasping his and finally meets her eyes. "I was following orders," is all he says, and she shakes her head at him, a bit more fiercely than she means to because everything is still spinning a little when she stops.

"Doesn't matter," she asserts, although Dean's comment about being supposed to fight on the other side with the angels tugs in the back of her brain. But she isn't dealing with that at right this second because everything is turning into a nice haze. "_Thank_ you, Cas." Her hand drops off of his and she leans back into her seat on the couch.

He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just looks at her with an odd expression on his face as she finishes what's left in her glass.

"Need more whiskey," she mumbles, more to herself than to him; and as she makes her way over to Damon's liquor cabinet, walking slightly crooked, Castiel asks, "Did you talk to Dean about Hell?"

Her fingers pause in their dance over the bottles. "A little," she confirms quietly. "But I didn't want to ask too much. In case he had, like, PTSD or something." She decides she'd rather have rum, and clasps her hand around the neck of the bottle. Glancing back at Castiel's impassive face, she explains, "Post traumatic stress disorder. Like, when a soldier comes home from war but wakes up thinking he's still there and freaks out. Stuff like that." She uncaps the rum bottle, uncaring that Damon might really break her neck if she drinks all of his good alcohol. "I didn't want to make it worse," she tells him, returning to her seat, bottle in hand.

They sit in silence, the only sound coming from Damon's drunken fumbling in the kitchen.

"We were many," Castiel says finally with faraway look in his eyes and she pauses in mid-drag straight from the bottle. "Three garrisons were sent down into the abyss to rescue Dean Winchester." His voice is so bleak that Caroline shivers. "It was not a solitary effort."

"Did you…" Caroline hesitates, unsure if she wants to know the answer to this question. She goes on anyway. "Did you lose anyone?"

Castiel fixes her with a sharp look. "Yes," he says gruffly. He doesn't elaborate and she doesn't ask.

He takes a deep breath and looks like he is steeling himself as he says, "Hell…Hell is darker than the blackest corner of the earth. You see no one and no one sees you, but you hear them." Castiel pauses and Caroline's entire body has gone ice-cold. "All there is…all there is for eternity is screaming and pain. And darkness."

"And a month is ten years," she whispers faintly, hand gripping the neck of the rum bottle so tightly she hears the glass crack. "He was down there for _years_." Her vision blurs and she feels tears slip down her face. She wishes they were the effects of all the alcohol she's had to drink and not because of the ache in her heart. "Sam didn't come back until a month after they left—after it happened," she tells him hoarsely, biting her lip. "I don't think he'd eaten or slept in days. I never...I never asked. And then he'd disappear for weeks at a time..._everything_ bad happened after Dean—after Dean was gone." She inhales shakily, the feel of a pillow forced over her face flaring in her memory. "And nothing was okay until he came back. Until _you_ gave him back to us."

They fall silent again.

"Deep, depressing talk better be _over_," Damon warns as he re-enters the living room, and then he sees the rum bottle in Caroline's hand. "_Hell_, Barbie, you know how expensive that stuff is?" She turns her tear-stained face towards him and he falters. "Well don't _cry_ about it," he mutters, dropping back into his spot on the floor and holding his glass out to her.

She wipes at the tear tracks as she fills it and forces her voice to be light. "Shouldn't Stefan be back by now?" She tips the bottle up and drinks straight from it because she needs that lovely haze back now, thanks.

Damon shrugs exaggeratedly and waves his hand widely out in front of him. "I'm sure he and Elena are recounting the tragedy of their Romeo and Juliet love story. Probably some hot and heavy joint journal-writing going on. Maybe some longing stares if they're feeling really frisky."

Her voice is harder than she means for it to be. "Careful, Damon. Your bitterness is showing." Castiel watches their exchange with the same interested look on his face as when he had watched Sam and Dean squabble about light beer and turkey bacon (_It's fake bacon, Sammy. It's a bird masquerading as a pig and I'm not eating it_).

Instead of snarling at her like she expects, Damon's head drops back against the couch so that his forehead is pressing into her thigh and Caroline's eyes widen as she gapes down at him. "What does he have, Barbie?" he bemoans, and he _must_ be smashed because he never talks like this. "I could be good. I _would_ be good, if she asked me."

Caroline really doesn't want to comfort _Damon_ Salvatore of all people—she still vividly remembers fangs at her throat and _you're useless and shallow, Caroline_. Plus, she has always, _always_ preferred Stefan—she had been ready to forgive him for everything he had done with Klaus (on condition that he actually apologized) right up until he nearly drove Elena off of Wickery Bridge. She of all people understood sacrificing yourself for your brother. But after the Wickery Bridge nightmare, Elena had cried in Caroline's bed until she had literally passed out mid-sob, so now _both_ Salvatores are on her shit list and neither one has really given her any reason to reconsider.

But Damon looks so pitiful that her heart softens despite herself. "Damon," she says gently, briefly hesitating before squaring her shoulders—_in for a penny, in for a pound, Forbes_—and brushing his hair off his forehead. "She _has_ asked you to be good." He stills and she continues on, "And you have got to stop treating her like a five-year-old."

"But she _acts_ like one," he protests petulantly, voice muffled because half of his face is pressed into the couch.

"No," Caroline corrects. "Elena acts like she's eighteen, because she _is_. It just looks childish and immature to you because you're _old_. Stop pushing, try not to sleep with any more Originals, and just be _nice_. It'll help. Promise."

He grunts and rolls his head away from her. "You're one to talk about Originals."

She takes a long sip of rum and says sourly, "That's _all_ you took away from that? And I'm _definitely_ not sleeping with any Originals."

"Not _yet_," he sings out. "Don't think all those secret looks have gone unnoticed. And you went to his house _alone_."

"_How_ the hell do you know that?" she demands tensely, glancing at Castiel, who frowns at her. Dean and Sam will definitely hear about this and she is _so_ not looking forward to it. The atmosphere is suddenly much more hostile.

"Original baby bro told Original baby sis, who told me," he says smugly. "You suck at covering your tracks."

"He and Elijah are going to _help_ us with—"

"Yeah," he cuts her off. "I get it, they can get us shit we need to fight, win, whatever." His voice turns serious. "But you're a damn _idiot_ if you think you can reel him in for Apocalypse Now and then toss him back after the grand finale."

"I'm _not_ reeling him in!" she cries defensively. "And what is _with_ the fishing metaphors?"

He stands up and tips his glass in her direction. "That's the thing," he says resentfully. "You have _no_ _idea_ that you're stringing him along." Her eyes go wide because he seriously can_not_ be concerned for freaking _Klaus_.

"_God_," she scoffs at him derisively. "Projecting much? Get a clue, Damon. You expect Elena to fall head over heels for you—after everything you've done—just because you've been halfway decent for a few months! Klaus is a lot of things, most of them horrible, but he isn't _delusional_."

"We'll see, Barbie. You do what you gotta do, and everything, but don't be surprised if he goes on a killing spree once he finds out it was all in the name of saving the world," he snaps, grabbing the rum bottle from her. "You know the way out." Icy blue eyes flick over to where Castiel is sitting, looking shell-shocked. "And take Angels in the Outfield with you."

...

"I don't like him," Castiel announces as she fumbles with her car keys. Caroline gives up trying to force her fingers to work and lets out a frustrated sound. "No one likes him," she tells him, "because he's a _dick_. And I am not nearly sober enough for this, and there is no _way_ I'm letting you drive us home!"

"No," he agrees solemnly. "I can't drive."

One of the key rings looped over her index finger, she points at him and says, "When this is over, I'll teach you. But for now," she shoves her keys back in her bag and throws her hands up dramatically. "We walk."

He looks at her curiously. "Neither one of us would be hurt in an accident," he reminds her. She shakes her head at him. "No," she grants him that one. "But other people could be."

Castiel tilts his head as he regards her. "You're very caring," he observes and she blushes as she pulls him onto the sidewalk with her.

"People are important," Caroline says quietly, concentrating on not stumbling. The cool air is definitely helping to clear her head. "Just because everyone forgets that doesn't make it not true." She pauses before confiding, "I killed someone, right after I turned. I didn't mean to, I just—I had no idea how to stop it or how to control myself. I never knew his name and most days I can't even remember what he looked like." She focuses on the streetlamps so she doesn't have to look at Castiel's face. "But I never forget that he had people who loved him, people who miss him. And that I'm the one that took him away from those people." She bites her lip before saying, "I refuse to hurt anyone else."

Castiel stops and she turns back. "What?" she asks, suddenly very alert and listening for the sounds of footsteps. But there are only crickets and the occasionally dog barking.

"It is not up to me," he says slowly, admiration dawning in his eyes. "But I am fairly certain that you are not damned, Caroline Forbes."

Her eyes well up with tears that have been building since Damon kicked them out of the boarding house. "Really?" she whispers, voice cracking.

"Yes," he confirms. "You are more concerned with protecting the Lord's people than His own Host of Heaven. I cannot imagine that you do not deserve Paradise."

Warmth spreads throughout her limbs and before she can think better of it, she throws her arms around his neck and says tearfully, "Thanks, Cas." He awkwardly pats her back, his arms never fully reaching around her.

"You're welcome, Caroline," he says, and she detects a note of fondness in his voice.

"What's all this then?" She stiffens in recognition and releases Castiel before turning around.

Rebekah smirks at them and Caroline says sharply, "Have you considered going all Single White Female on someone else? Because I'm _so_ beyond fed up with it."

"But you make it so _easy_, Caroline," Rebekah says idly, examining her nails. "And I'm terribly sorry that you're in the way of so many things I want, but you understand how these things go. It can't be avoided." Rebekah smiles wolfishly at her and the similarity to Klaus makes the hair on the back of Caroline's neck stand up. "You are head cheerleader, after all."

Caroline turns to Castiel and says conversationally, "You would think that someone who's lived for over a thousand years would be less concerned with what happens in _high school_." She meets Rebekah's eyes. "Whenever I get caught up in the drama, my mom says there's life after high school. But apparently no one ever told you that, Rebekah."

Rebekah gives her a falsely bright smile. "The difference between you and me, Caroline is that that's something you need to be reminded of. And you're being awfully rude, by not introducing me to your—friend, you know." The way she pauses over the word _friend_ has Caroline making a mental note to warn Castiel about the possibility of having his neck snapped by a lunatic Original hybrid. "I'm Rebekah." She holds out her hand.

"Castiel," he responds formally, making no move to shake her proffered hand. She smirks as her hand drops back to her side.

"Moving on from Tyler so quickly?" Rebekah comments cattily and Caroline rolls her eyes.

"Cas is a family friend," she says indifferently. "Not that you would know anything about _friends_."

She lands a direct hit; Rebekah's face twists and she hisses, "If I find out you are _playing_ with my brother, Caroline, I will string you up by your intestines and leave you for your adorable stepbrothers to find."

Before Caroline can think of a retort, Castiel says, his voice foreboding, "You will do no such thing," and, distracted, Caroline and Rebekah both look over at him.

Slightly mystifying and _definitely _intimidating black shadow wings are spread behind his back, bathed in the glow of the streetlight he has moved to stand under. Caroline is awestruck and a little touched at the display, and when she turns back to Rebekah, the other girl is pale.

"That's impossible," she says lowly. "That is _not possible_." There is very real fear in her eyes.

Before Caroline can point out (a little smugly because she's still tipsy enough to poke at the beast) that it is, in fact, possible since Castiel is _right there_ and maybe Rebekah needs her eyes checked, she's gone.

"Great," she sighs, turning to Castiel. "She'll probably freak out to Klaus and he'll show up on my porch with a vendetta. Not that I don't appreciate your defense," she adds quickly, smiling at him a little. "Very gentlemanly."

"She is one of the first vampires," he observes thoughtfully, moving out of the intense light of the streetlamp. They resume walking back to the Forbes-Winchester house. "And she does not like you."

"Oh, she hates me," Caroline corrects him. "She's also a psychopath, but that runs in her family so I'm not sure how much we can really blame her for that."

...

Her phone ringing early the next morning yanks Caroline out of her slightly hung-over sleep. Fumbling around her nightstand in search for her phone, she peers blearily at the name then slides her finger across the unlock bar.

"Hey, Sam," she says, and she winces at how deep and scratchy her voice is.

"Sounds like someone had a good night," Sam greets her, chuckling. "How's everything going down there?"

She yawns and pushes her hair off of her forehead, sitting up. "The same as when you left. How's D.C.? Are you coming back soon?"

There's some noise in the background and Caroline pictures them in a nasty motel room with weapons and musty old books spread all over the floor, salt lining the windows. "It's going about like we expected," Sam tells her. "Should be home tomorrow, don't know what time. You and Cas getting along?"

"Yeah," she says, electing to not tell him about Castiel outing himself to Rebekah until they get home. "Where's Dean?"

"Picking up pie and Fritos from the gas station," Sam replies and Caroline snorts because that is _so_ typical. "He said to tell you everything's fine, not to worry and he wants you to tell Liz he wants her spaghetti tomorrow night."

"I'll pass it along," she says dryly, kicking her legs out from under her covers and making her way to the bathroom, flicking on the light.

"He also said to tell you to stay away from—and I quote, 'Vincent van Vampire.'"

She rolls her eyes and leans forward to examine the slightly dark circles under her eyes, saying, "No need to remind me of that."

"Yeah, I know," Sam says with a laugh. "I think that Dean sometimes forgets you aren't eight anymore. He still thinks you need someone to threaten to shove kids' faces in the sand."

She laughs at the image in spite of herself. "Yeah, I can shove people's faces in the sand all by myself now," she says wryly, fiddling with the elastic on her boxer shorts. "I've got to take a shower, Sam, but—be careful, okay?"

"We always are," he says, and she hangs up and drops her phone onto the bathroom counter.

She feels much less hung-over once she gets out of the shower and puts clean clothes on. "Cas?" she calls into the hallway, buttoning her jeans and pushing damp hair out of her eyes. There's no answer, which surprises her a little. She tiptoes down the hallway to the living room and blinks in confusion when she sees the sheets and pillows that make up Castiel's 'bed' are neatly folded and stacked. There's no note.

"Not a big deal," she says to herself aloud. "Probably just some weird angel thing. No need to freak out, Caroline." Feeling appropriately chastened, she pulls a thermos out of the fridge and takes several long sips of B positive.

Several minutes later, she's locking up her front door and heading to the Salvatore house. There are enough early-morning joggers out that she can't flash herself over there, but the morning sun is peeking through the trees that line the sidewalk and the air smells like flowers so she isn't really bothered by having to walk normally.

Her car is exactly where she left it, but as she's about to open the door and get in the driver's seat, Stefan Salvatore says from the top of the driveway, "Damon wanted to have it towed."

She stiffens and glances over at him. "Thanks for saving me two hundred dollars and not letting him, I guess," she says flatly.

"It's the least I could do," he replies quietly, regarding her carefully. "I needed to hear what you had to say the other night."

Caroline shrugs at him. "I'm always available to bitchslap you with the truth," she quips with a lightness she doesn't feel. He makes his way down the driveway to stand in front of her.

"I know I have a lot to apologize for," he tells her, shame shadowing his face. "And I'm going to try to start making things right."

"Really?" she responds tartly, tilting her head at him. "Because I haven't heard an apology yet."

Stefan smiles a little and says sincerely, "Caroline Forbes, I am _very _sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I'm sorry for leaving, and for not being there when you needed me to be. I'm working on getting back to who I was and from the very bottom of my heart, I wish I had been better."

She fiddles with her keys and says softly, "I guess it's a start."

...

Today must just be the day for heart-to-hearts, Caroline decides as she parks in front of the Lockwood mansion. Mrs. Lockwood's car is nowhere to be seen, and Caroline figures she's probably still at church, assuring everyone that their town is completely normal, especially since there hasn't been 'animal attack' in months.

Caroline steels her nerves and rings the doorbell.

Tyler looks a little stunned to see her when he opens the door but he recovers well and says, stepping aside so she can come in, "Hey, Care. What's up?"

"How are you?" she asks, unsure of how to exactly start. Her hands twist awkwardly as she walks into his living room.

He shrugs. "Okay, I guess. You?"

She bites her lip before saying, "Fine. But we need to talk about something." He doesn't look at all surprised so she takes that as her cue to keep going. "About..._us_," she beings cautiously and he cuts her off urgently, "Care, I was trying to protect you because I _love_ you!"

She winces, remembering the last time he'd said that, her hand going subconsciously to her collarbone. "I know," she tells him gently, "but I don't need you to protect me. I need you to protect _you_ and that can't happen while you're sire bonded to Klaus." She pauses before adding, "I know your heart was in the right place, Tyler, but you can't make people do what you think is best. That's what people like _Klaus_ do, not you."

Tyler's eyes harden and he says emotionlessly, "You know, Rebekah mentioned how you went over there to see him." Caroline's mouth drops open slightly because _seriously_, does Rebekah have nothing else better to do than gossip about her?

"And you think, what, that I dumped you for him?" she demands, defenses going up. "God, Tyler—"

"What am I supposed to think?" he snaps back and they're nearly nose-to-nose, glaring at each other. He blinks first and seems to visibly deflate. "I made a mistake, Care," he says softly, hands going to her arms. "And you have no idea how sorry I am."

She sighs heavily and says resignedly, "There's something you need to know, Tyler."

...

"I wish you wouldn't have told Bekah," Klaus says offhandedly and Caroline stiffens as she shuts her car door. When she turns around, he looks deceptively normal, right down to the stupid hipster cords around his neck.

"She was going to find out eventually and she kind of forced the issue," she replies archly, locking her car and turning her keys so that the one to her house is at the ready. She walks up her driveway and hears his footsteps as he follows her. "Something about stringing me up by my intestines and having my stepbrothers find me." Caroline unlocks her front door. "For some weird reason, the _angel_ I was with at the time didn't appreciate that too much." She pauses before adding, "Also, I may have been a little drunk." She keeps to herself that she literally _just_ spilled the beans to Tyler too. Klaus doesn't need to know that.

His expression barely changes but her stomach still flutters a little—_nerves_, she decides firmly and she keeps her face from giving her away as she crosses her threshold. When she realizes he isn't behind her anymore she turns around and sees that he's leaning back against the wooden railing that surrounds her porch. She raises an eyebrow at him in question and he shrugs. "It's rude to come in uninvited, sweetheart."

Caroline snorts, because _seriously_, these manners so do not mesh with everything else about him, especially his cold-blooded murderer side. "You already have an invitation," she points out haughtily.

"Only in the technical sense," Klaus says lightly, dark blue eyes fixed on hers. She sets her jaw and says snippily, "Do you have a reason for being here other than bitching to me about Cas freaking Rebekah out?" He looks annoyingly amused.

"I have something from your list," he responds casually, and she contemplates him before wordlessly walking inside, leaving the door open behind her. She hears him come in behind her and shut the door as she heads for the living room.

She puts her finger to her lips for him to stay quiet before she calls out, "Cas?" When there is no answer, she gestures for him to go on and he looks even more amused than he had on her porch.

Klaus pulls a long dagger out from his jacket sleeve and puts it down on her coffee table. Her eyes widen. "An Angel Killing Sword," she says, a little shocked that something has gone their way. That has to bode well for the future, right?

"How did you find it?" Caroline wants to know, eyes not leaving the sword as she sits down on the sofa, slightly awed with her hand going to her mouth. He remains standing, arms crossed over his chest and a small, self-satisfied smile playing on his mouth.

"A careless human lost it to careless vampire," he says easily, a predatory gleam in his eye and he looks more like the Klaus she's used to seeing. She has _got_ to stop forgetting who he is.

She fingers the handle of the blade lightly. "So two people died for this," she murmurs without looking at him.

"I'd be a little more grateful, love," he warns, voice cooling considerably as he turns towards her mantle, his back to her; she shudders. "Tracking that dagger down was no easy feat. A little appreciation would go a long way."

She snorts in derision. "Fine. I _appreciate_ that you ripped out all the necessary hearts to get your hands on this. Happy?"

"It'll do for now," he allows, eyes fixed on one of the framed photos resting above her fireplace. She _really_ doesn't like how he's just standing there, contemplating whatever picture he's looking at, so she flounces up off the sofa and marches to his side, gaze following his.

The Forbes-Winchester mantle is a veritable shrine to their family: Sam and Dean's high school graduation photos sit next to Caroline grinning brightly in her cheerleading uniform; Liz and John's wedding portrait is next to a picture that Caroline's pretty sure became a Christmas card. It's Caroline's favorite of all the photos above the fireplace—her, Sam, and Dean during some family beach vacation not long after their parents had gotten married. Their hair is tangled and sand covers their faces; Caroline's smile is missing several teeth; and Dean is laughing at something off camera while Sam is just grinning up at the photographer goofily.

"Lovely family," Klaus says quietly and she almost jumps, having nearly forgotten he was there. Her first instinct is to tell him off—the same dark eyes that are so focused on her gap-toothed smile have probably watched as thousands of people—all belonging, at some point, to a family—died brutally and she cannot afford to keep forgetting that.

But she also knows that he carried his own family around in coffins with him everywhere he went in some twisted attempt to keep them safe, so she settles for diplomacy and says, "Yeah. They're pretty great."

He pauses as though carefully considering his next words. "How did your brother end up in Hell?" he asks, shifting to look at the pictures of Sam and Dean in caps and gowns. Caroline swallows hard because even though she's relieved that he seems to have relaxed, she would really rather not relive that particular moment in her life.

"It's a long story," is all she says, looking away from the mantle with an air of finality. He doesn't push the issue, instead turning to look back at the sword.

"Do you even know how to use a sword, Caroline?"

The mood sufficiently lightened, she goes over to pick it up and examine it. "Nope. Sam went through a pirate stage though. We fought a lot of duels with tree branches."

Klaus laughs and she thinks, not for the first time that he would be a lot less scary if he would just lighten up. "And did you win them?"

She smiles a little. "Only because I didn't play fair." At his inviting expression, she explains, "Pulled all the little girl tricks. Cried, pretended to be hurt, threatened to tattle, the works. Eventually he just started letting me win." She studies the sword intently before subtly peeking over at him.

She can count on one hand the number of times she's seen Klaus, the person who had been alive once, instead of Klaus the ruthless hybrid, but it's not hard at all to tell which one she is seeing now. His eyes are softer, his face completely devoid of arrogance, and she thinks if she had only ever encountered this Klaus, they could have been friends.

He looks so human in that moment that she says in a hushed tone, "Sam died." His eyes snap up to meet hers and Caroline continues purposefully, "Sam died and Dean made a deal with a demon to get him back." Her grip on the Angel Killing Sword tightens. "He traded his soul to save Sam and the demon gave him a final year before he died." She shakes her head and says, unable to stop a little bit of bitterness from creeping into her tone, "All three of us have died before. How messed up is that?" There are tears threatening to start gathering at the corners of her eyes and she bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep them at bay. She drops the sword back on her coffee table and walks into the kitchen to pull her thermos out of the fridge, standing against the counter as she drinks; her grip on her control waning. Klaus follows her into the kitchen and when he sees her face, his own turns sympathetic.

"I lost a brother once," he says quietly, coming to lean next to her. "We were together and—he was quite young. My—Mikael was never the same. He had always hated me, but," Klaus shrugs a little, "it turned into something else after that." His hand goes to the back of his neck ruefully. "I was desperate to keep my remaining family whole and after centuries of running I acted on that desperation."

She thinks back to Tyler and Homecoming and mumbles, "Good intentions but bad, bad execution." It's a strange feeling, bonding with the villain in the most recent chapter of her life. Caroline considers him before venturing, "If you were like this more often, people might actually like you. You wouldn't need a hybrid army or to sire bond people into wanting to be around you." _Caroline Forbes_, she thinks to herself. _Here to bitchslap you with the truth._ She feels a frisson of fear snake down her spine when his face turns thunderous, but she's pretty sure he won't be ripping her heart out this late in the game.

"Yes, well my _hybrid army_ is due to arrive back in Mystic Falls any day now," Klaus says harshly. He straightens and his eyes narrow at her. "And since the secret is out, it would be best if you and your _angel_," he fairly spits the word at her, "came up with some sort of halfway decent plan. Before I have to resort to extreme measures." He leaves the rest of the threat unsaid—_before I have to start hurting the people you love._ Every muscle in her body goes rigid, because _seriously_, it's not like they're all sitting on their asses here, waiting to be smote.

With her temper flaring, Caroline has no idea how she's managing to keep her cool, or what possesses her to continue her giant leap over the line (that's a lie—she has a bad habit of not backing down when she's pissed, a trait she picked up from one Dean Winchester). She goes right for the heart. "I get it," she says calmly as he makes to storm out. "Your father didn't love you, so you're afraid no one else will either." He whirls around and she finds herself shoved forcefully into her stove, his arms on either side of her, trapping her in between them. His face is a hair's breadth away from hers and his eyes are turning yellow. Her breath catches but she clenches her fists where they remain at her sides and says with perfect composure, "I think you should leave now." She sends a brief internal _thank you_ to God, or whoever, when her voice doesn't shake.

He's gone before she can blink.

...

Caroline leaves a note on the counter for Castiel telling him she's decided to spend the night at Bonnie's house (because she really doesn't relish the idea of being home alone when there's a possibly maniacal hybrid who happens to be extremely pissed at her wandering around) along with the number for pizza delivery, twenty bucks and instructions to tip. She leaves a separate note for Liz on the dresser in the master bedroom, making sure to mention Dean's spaghetti demand. As she makes her way down Bonnie's street, she tries to cajole Elena into joining their sleepover.

"_Please_, Elena," she begs dramatically into her phone. "We'll order Chinese food, watch _Dirty Dancing_, figure out how to fight angels…you know, girls' night!"

Elena laughs and says, "_Fine_, Care. But I'm eating dinner with Jeremy and Ric first, so you two shouldn't wait for me to order take out."

"Noted. Hey, Elena—which one hooked you? Patrick Swayze or angel war games?"

Her friend laughs again and Caroline beams. "Definitely Patrick Swayze," Elena says firmly. "Don't start the movie without me."

Bonnie opens her door before Caroline has even cut her engine off.

"You excited, Bon?" Caroline teases as she swings her bag out of the front seat.

"I think I figured it out," Bonnie says breathlessly, ignoring Caroline's question and grabbing her hand to drag her into the house.

"Figured what out?"

"That thing the witches kept repeating—_revelations, revelations_. I kept thinking I was going to see something, like in a dream or a vision, but that's not what it means, Care!"

"Okay," Caroline says slowly, dropping her bag onto the Bennett living room floor. "So what _does_ it mean?"

Bonnie's eyes glitter and she points Caroline to the giant Bennett family Bible resting on the coffee table. "It means the _Book_ of Revelation," she says reverently and Caroline's eyes go wide.

Once she gets her wits back, Caroline says, "Should we wait for Elena?" Bonnie shakes her head. "We can catch her up when she gets here."

Bonnie crouches down in front of her coffee table, opening the Bible to its final book. "It's very complex," she says, finger running down a page. "I can't make heads or tails of a lot of it." She looks up hopefully at Caroline. "Can we get your angel to help?"

"He's not _my_ angel," Caroline reminds her. "And I haven't seen him since last night, so I don't know if he's even around." Bonnie frowns.

"But he'll come back soon right?"

"I think so," Caroline says, because she can't really imagine a scenario where Castiel just peaced out on them before the curtain on this whole thing even went up. "Do you think the witches mean anything specific about Revelation? Or was that just their warning hint?"

"It has to mean something," Bonnie says firmly. "Everything they say _means_ something."

Something clicks in the back of Caroline's mind. _Pretty sure their whole game plan is in there_, Dean had said. "Bon," she says softly. "Cas said that—that this Apocalypse isn't _God's_ doing, it's the Host of Heaven trying to draw Him out. It's not _His_ version of how things are supposed to go. So…so what if the way to fight them is buried somewhere in here and that's what the witches are trying to tell you?"

Bonnie considers the thin pages thoughtfully. "But everything in the Book of Revelation is about destroying the earth," she reminds Caroline.

"Right, but shouldn't the things God uses in Revelation be for like, His use only? Isn't that _His_ game plan?"

Bonnie sighs and rubs her forehead. "We need help, Care. Is there any way you can get Cas here?"

Caroline blows her bangs off of her forehead. "There's prayer," she offers, forehead bunching and eyes closing as she concentrates, making sure she adds her location to her Bat-signal. When she opens her eyes, hoping to see Castiel, it's still just Bonnie looking at her expectantly.

"Crap," Caroline mutters. "I guess—"

"Care," Bonnie says quietly, eyes focused on what Caroline _hopes _is Castiel behind her. She peeks over her shoulder and visibly relaxes.

"You should've left a note," she scolds Cas, turning all the way around. "I was kind of worried Rebekah had gotten you."

Castiel stares at her for a second, and she thinks he might be trying to discern if she's joking or not, before offering Bonnie his hand to shake. "Castiel. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett," he says politely.

Bonnie smiles back at him. "Yeah, you too." She gestures to the giant tome opened on her coffee table. "We're trying to find a way to stop all of this from happening."

Castiel sighs and sits down next to them. "The chances that you will be successful are very slim," he says bluntly and Caroline winces.

"But you're helping us," she reminds him earnestly.

"I am one and they are many," he says darkly and Caroline wrinkles her nose at him.

"I don't care what the odds are," Bonnie cuts in, her tone hardening. "We're protecting the people we love and if you won't help us, then I suggest you leave."

Castiel looks surprised and a little offended. "Of course I'm helping you. You just need to understand that you have very little chance of success."

"Thanks, Sunshine," Caroline says archly, more than a little Dean Winchester attitude seeping into her voice. "Because we hadn't figured that out yet." He looks confused and she clarifies, "_Sarcasm_, Cas."

His forehead quirks and then he says, "Your best option is to unite the supernatural creatures against the Host."

"Good!" Caroline enthuses, sending Bonnie a hopeful glance. "We've already got more hybrids coming—"

"You will need _more_," Castiel tells her sternly. "Demons, ghosts, the djinn, shapeshifters, tricksters—"

"How many supernatural creatures _are_ there?" Bonnie asks faintly.

Castiel looks surprised. "Many. All are deeply invested in the continued existence of the world."

"Why would demons not want Lucifer out?" Bonnie says suddenly and Caroline feels like a huge idiot for not wondering that herself. "Isn't he like their leader?"

"No," he says sharply. "He would rule them with an iron fist."

Caroline's hands go to her temples. "Wait—so he's not in Hell."

Castiel frowns at her. "He _is_ in Hell. Trapped. He has no control over the demons and if he were released, they would be forced to bend to his will. The demons will be eager to help, and they will bring the hellhounds."

"Hellhounds," Bonnie repeats, looking stunned.

He nods. "Hellhounds drag souls to Hell." Immediately he looks guilty and turns concernedly to Caroline.

She is frozen in place. "_What?_" she whispers, blood roaring through her ears. "They—they _drag_ souls to—oh my _God_." Her eyes squeeze shut, one hand covering them._ He's out, he's out, he's out_, she repeats to herself internally. She squares her shoulders and says fiercely, "I'm fine. It's fine. Continue."

Castiel gestures towards the Bennett family Bible. "The creatures of Armageddon described in Revelation are to be used by the Lord, not by angels. They would not take kindly to the discrepancy."

"So they won't do what the angels say?" Bonnie asks confusedly and Caroline has to admit her head is spinning slightly.

Castiel fixes them both with a look. "They will not know the orders are not the Lord's."

Realization dawns. "We have to find them first," Caroline says softly. "How do you even find—" she glances down. "Four Horsemen?"

"I'm searching," he says tiredly and for the first time Caroline sees the dark smudges under his eyes and wrinkles in his khaki coat.

"Cas," Caroline says gently. "Go home. Get some sleep. We'll talk about it when Sam and Dean come back tomorrow."

Before he takes her advice, he reaches towards Bonnie and says, "May I?" Bonnie looks to Caroline for confirmation; when Caroline shrugs, Bonnie says, "Yeah, okay."

Castiel touches her shoulder and Bonnie gives a cry of pain, hand flying to her ribcage. "They can no longer find you," he says solemnly before nodding a goodbye to Caroline and vanishing.

Bonnie's eyes are watering when she turns to Caroline, hand still splayed over her side. "Hiding sigil," Caroline explains sympathetically. "Hurts like a bitch, huh?"

...

She wakes up in a tangle of limbs and Elena's elbow digging into her back. The sun is streaming through Bonnie's curtains as Caroline tries to slowly free herself from the pile without waking anyone else up.

"Care, so early," Elena mumbles in protest, burying her face in her pillow.

"Sorry," she whispers back, sliding her foot out from under Bonnie's knee. "I gotta get home. Tell Bonnie bye fore me."

"M'kay," Elena agrees sleepily before passing right back out. Finally detangled, she runs her fingers through her hair, trying to halfway tame it, and replaces her pajama bottoms with jeans.

She runs into Mr. Bennett drinking coffee in the kitchen. "Good morning, Caroline," he greets her warmly. "I would have woken you girls up in time for school—you didn't have to set an alarm."

Caroline smiles back at him and says, "Oh, no, Mr. Bennett, I left my school bag at home, so I needed to get up. Thanks for letting us stay over."

"No problem. Tell your mother hello for me."

She nods as she slips out his front door, pulling her phone out and calling Sam.

He answers on the first ring. "We're on the way now, Care."

"Good," she says brightly, climbing into her car. "Was everything successful?"

"I'd say so," he answers. "We won't be home before you have to go to school though."

"Since everything went fine, can you at least give me a hint what you were doing in D.C.?" she whines, pulling out onto Bonnie's street.

"Long story. Tell you at dinner."

"Fine," she groans, hanging up.

When she pulls into her own driveway, the Sheriff's car isn't there and Caroline feels a flutter of disappointment. She's _barely_ seen Lid in days and she makes a mental note to come up with a sound argument for her mother to work less.

When she lets herself in, she spies Castiel sound asleep on the couch and smiles to herself as she makes her way into her bedroom. Dropping her bag on the floor by her door, she goes to her desk to start putting books into her backpack when she spies something glittering on her nightstand.

Apprehensively, she slowly makes her way to her bedside table and sure enough, the diamond bracelet she had returned to Klaus has found its way back to her.

* * *

**A/N:** Apologies for any mistakes. Hopefully this chapter is long enough to tide you lovely folk over until next week. Until then, let me know what you think and review!


	5. four

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine. Title is courtesy of the amazing Explosions in the Sky.

(BTW—I changed my pen name. I was **belleserenite** for a long time, so it was time for a new name!)

**A/N:** Still AU/AH. I'm so glad people are enjoying this story, especially because I was pretty sure it only made sense in my head. As always, my sincere thanks to all reviewers, story alert-ers, favorite-ers, etc—seriously, it makes me all warm and happy. So please, keep reading, keep reviewing, and (hopefully) keep enjoying!

**A/N 2:** This took a little longer than I thought it would! And once again, I had these really long scenes written that I really liked but they felt too off (so I deleted them, then cried). Also, I feel like I should warn everyone about just how long this fic is shaping up to be—I mean, guys: 32,000ish words and it's only been 3 chapters + a prologue? It's gonna be massive; hope everyone's okay with that!

**Last thing: **Just a warning—I'm moving next week…moving to another _country_ so it might a little bit before the next update. But it will come, never fear! Also, I made a teeny tiny change to SPN angel lore but it's really minor, so hopefully it doesn't pull anyone out of the story.

Happy reading and let me know what you think!

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**4. **

"We made a deal," Sam says over his plate of noodles, and Caroline looks up sharply because Sam and Dean's track record with deals leaves just a _little_ to be desired. At her expression Dean swallows the enormous serving of spaghetti he had just shoveled into his mouth and elaborates for Sam, "Not that kind of deal. More like…an alliance."

"So literally a match made in Hell," she says flippantly, wrinkling her nose as Dean takes another huge bite. "Dean, if you're gonna inhale half a plate at a time, you should at least _chew_. Helps with the whole not choking thing."

"The demons weren't in Hell," Castiel says, eyes focused on his own fork as he twirls his spaghetti into an ever-growing pasta ball. "They were in Washington, D.C."

Caroline stares at him and has to bite down on her tongue to not say, _No shit, Sherlock_. But she's so not in the mood to disclaim sarcasm and she thinks it probably would feel a little like kicking a puppy. "Thanks for the explanation, Cas." She turns back to Sam. "So what was the big rush? What happened?"

Sam has just taken a bite of food so Dean takes over again, "Demons losing their shit. Sammy here went all Demon Whisperer on 'em and we've got ourselves a demon army. And they're spreading the word, so all the creepy crawlies are heading this way."

"And they've sworn to lay off the locals," Sam adds distastefully once his mouth is empty and he makes a face. "After the Apocalypse, though, it's truce over. Back to kill or be killed."

Caroline shakes her head, remembering what Bonnie had said about getting the hybrids back to Mystic Falls and remaining unconvinced. "I just—it still feels like this is what the angels want. Wipe everyone out and there's no one left to protect humans. I know," she hurries when she sees the look on Dean's face, "it's a risk we have to take. Bonnie said the same thing, but it just feelsoff somehow. Like we're getting played."

Sam sighs and says patiently, "It's because we _are_ getting played. The angels came up with a pretty brilliant plan, Care—they want to take out as many supernatural beings as possible but we have no hope in defeating them before they let the devil out unless we have a ton of help. Help from supernatural beings."

"But what if no one from our side even went to the fight? What if we just concentrated on keeping the lid to Hell shut?" Caroline offers hopefully, looking from Sam to Dean with bright eyes.

"Because if we do that, we risk losing demon support. As soon as Daddy's home, they'll have to go to bat for the other team," Dean says darkly, stabbing at an errant noodle. "And trust me, it'll be easier to fight off angels than it will be to lock up Hell."

"Fine," she says, defeated, twirling her own spaghetti listlessly. "But I hope you know what you're doing."

Dean snorts and says, "Speaking of _getting played._ Pretty rich coming from the girl who's encouraging that creepy-ass hybrid vamp. Yeah," he adds when she shoots Castiel a look of betrayal, "You aren't going to be alone with him again, got it?"

Her eyes flick to the slight—but thankfully unnoticed—dent in the stove. Caroline had lied through her teeth about how she'd gotten her hands on the Angel Killing Sword—it involved the sword passing through a long chain of people before ever reaching her. Which she supposes isn't totally untrue. "Don't worry," she mutters. "That's not happening ever again." Dean gives her a short, approving nod before concentrating on slurping up the remains of his spaghetti.

"How're things going on your end, Cas?" Sam wants to know and Castiel tears himself away from his spaghetti noodles.

"The Horsemen prove elusive," he tells them. "But I'm not finished looking." He pauses then continues, "I may have found an ally in the Host."

Caroline's heart skips a beat. "An _angelic_ ally?"

Castiel nods. "Nothing is confirmed. But she is becoming more convinced."

"Whoa," Dean interjects, hand going up. "There are _chick_ angels?"

Caroline shoots him a glare and reprimands him under her breath, "_Sexist_," as Castiel responds bemusedly, "Of course."

Dean shakes his head as though trying to clear it. "Okay, so this angel that's coming around to Team Human. Can we trust her?"

"She was my superior in the garrison," Castiel says quietly, something like regret flickering across his face. "She is very honorable."

_Great_, Caroline thinks resignedly, _because what the world's really been missing is a female angelic Elijah._

Dean leans forward interestedly. "Could there be more? More like you and her?"

"It's possible," Castiel replies hesitantly. "But discovering them would require discretion and delicacy."

Dean's face falls. "Both of which you _suck_ at," he says dejectedly and Castiel looks mildly offended before espousing thoughtfully, "At the beginning of creation—_human_ creation—the Lord placed humanity above all else. The Host of Heaven was to regard your kind as precious and those who refused became Fallen." He pauses to heave a sigh. "With God's extended absence, many have forgotten this—or have decided to manipulate it. But there is hope yet that some who remember the value of humans to the Lord do not want to use destruction to force His hand."

"If God does show back up, Heaven's gonna look mighty empty," Dean comments and Castiel nods gravely in agreement.

…

Klaus's bracelet slips and slides over her fingers as she plays with it, the diamonds throwing rainbows on her walls as they catch the fading sunlight. It really is beautiful and Caroline hates that it keeps cropping up because her willpower is only just so strong. But keeping it feels somehow like losing—losing the game of push and pull, losing her pride, losing a part of herself that feels crucial.

There's a knock at her door and Sam pokes his head in. "Hey," he says and she immediately picks up on the patented Sam Winchester concerned voice. "Everything okay? You seemed kind of out of it at dinner." She waves him in and he sits down at her desk chair, eyeing her carefully. She scoots down to the edge of her bed, not looking away from the bracelet.

"Can I tell you something if you promise you won't tell Dean?" she says without thinking, and then winces internally because she really hadn't been planning on telling anyone about how this stupid—_beautiful, sparkling_—bracelet ended up back in her possession. But she can't seem to stop herself from total disclosure when it comes to Sam. One of his eyebrows goes up incredulously.

"Could this hurt or kill you?" he asks and Caroline wrinkles her nose. If Klaus hadn't killed her or at least snapped her neck in the middle of his last fit of rage, then she is fairly certain he isn't planning on any murder or maiming as far as she's concerned.

"I don't think so," she says simply, words echoing through her mind—_all those secret looks_; _you're the pretty little thing that had my brother in a fury_; _if I find out that you are just playing with my brother, Caroline; you're beautiful and strong and full of light_. "No," she corrects herself quietly. "This can't hurt or kill me."

"Then I promise I won't tell Dean," Sam says, although he doesn't look quite convinced at her answer. She holds the bracelet out to him.

"Klaus gave me that," she tells him, "on my birthday. I gave it back to him the night of the ball and…and he didn't take it all that well." Sam doesn't freak out, which is a good sign. He inspects the bracelet, the links that remind Caroline of infinities glittering, before handing it back to her. She takes it and resumes sliding it over her fingers.

"I told him I couldn't be bought," she continues, color dancing across her ceiling as the diamonds wink in the light. "Then he came over here yesterday and we got into this really ugly fight and then I found it back on my nightstand this morning." This last sentence she says in a rush, avoiding Sam's eyes.

When Sam is silent for longer than she expects, she risks a glance up. His hand is on his forehead but—she breathes a small sigh of relief—he doesn't look pissed, only worried.

"I'm going to give it back to him," she says to fill the quiet. "Well, technically, I'm giving it to Rebekah to give back to him, but the end result is still the same, so whatever."

He still doesn't say anything and the uncomfortable silence is making her squirm, so she starts babbling. "Seriously, does he think he can make up for everything he's done by giving me some stupid _bracelet_? He killed Jenna, and only because she was my replacement! I mean, Damon rescued me before he could kill _me_ and I'm supposed to just forget that and fall for his stupid lines about beauty and light and—_no_!" She punctuates the end of her tirade with huff, having unintentionally worked herself up into a temper. "_Say_ something."

Sam sighs. "I don't know what you want me to say, Care. A half-crazy ancient and temperamental hybrid has this weirdly intense fixation on you but I don't think there's anything anyone can do about it. And clearly staying away for him isn't working since neither one of you is leaving the other alone."

"But—no, Sam, I—" she splutters but she honestly has no idea what she wants to say, because it's not like that's untrue. After all _she_ had sought out _Klaus_ on more than one occasion.

"I get why he likes you, though," Sam says thoughtfully and his gaze becomes distant. "When you're surrounded by darkness and anger for a long enough time, someone so genuinely good starts to look like an escape—like a way out." Caroline blinks in confusion at the longing in his voice and then, with a sharp pang, realizes that somehow this conversation has shifted from being about Klaus to being about Sam.

"What was Jess like?" she asks softly, rubbing one of the bracelet links absently. Sam's eyes go down to stare at the floor and she thinks_, Way to be insensitive, Forbes_. "You don't have to—" she begins sheepishly and Sam shakes his head and says, "She was amazing. She was smart…and funny and nice to everyone. She had this way of lighting up a room and she loved so completely. Every day that I was with her felt like…" he struggles for the words, and Caroline feels tears threaten at the corners of her eyes. "She was joy," he says finally, "and I was better when I was with her." _Beautiful, strong and full of light_, Caroline thinks sadly, equal parts wishing she could have met this girl who had so fully captured Sam's heart and resenting her for taking a piece of it with her when she died.

She reaches for his hand and he grasps hers tightly in return. "I'd bet money that that's why Klaus likes you," Sam says firmly, the haze of memories still shadowing his eyes. "You're like Jess, Care. You love with your whole heart and without reservations or conditions. And for someone who has to compel or sire people to love him—"

"Or dagger them and leave them in coffins for hundreds of years so they can't leave him," she adds darkly, and Sam laughs a little.

"Or that," he agrees, "For someone like Klaus, you've got to be like…like morning after a thousand years of night." She blinks rapidly at him, touched.

"Wow, Sam," she says softly. "Pretty poetic for an almost lawyer."

Sam smiles a little and replies, "Don't tell Dean. I'd never hear the end of it."

"I'll keep your secret if you keep mine," she promises.

He reaches for the bracelet that she had forgotten in her curiosity about Jess. "It _is_ a really nice bracelet," he muses. She nudges him with her foot. "I liked your present better," she says with a small smile, taking it back from him and sliding it into her bag to give to Rebekah at school.

There's another knock at her door and Dean doesn't wait for the all clear to come in. "I want pie," he announces and Sam rolls his eyes at Caroline. "Dean, when do you not want pie?"

"There's cobbler in the fridge," she points out, stifling a giggle and her eyebrows rising.

"Yeah, and that's fine and all, but I want that caramel pie the Grill just got. Either of you want me to bring you back a piece?"

Exchanging identical looks of exasperation, Caroline and Sam both stand up. "No thanks," Sam tells him, clapping Dean on the back before sending Caroline a grin over his shoulder as he leaves. Dean rolls his eyes and mumbles, "Freak," before raising his eyebrows questioningly at her.

She considers him thoughtfully and says, "I mean, if you're going anyway…apple, definitely," and Dean grins. "That's my girl," he says, winking at her and she follows him down to the front hallway. "Cas," he calls out and Castiel looks up from the molding book in his lap with a frown. "Want pie?"

Castiel stares at him as though he's just sprouted an extra eyeball. "No," he says incredulously and Dean shakes his head pityingly at Caroline before he says, "Shouldn't be long."

Except it is.

Two_ hours_ later, Sam's foot won't stop tapping erratically and Caroline says anxiously, "We should go check the Grill. Maybe he got distracted, and it can be really loud in there so he might not have heard his phone?" _Might not have heard his phone fourteen times, Caroline?_ She's so not helping herself calm down.

Sam glances at the clock on the wall. "Five more minutes," he says resolutely. "We give him five more minutes, then we go look for him."

Even Castiel looks a little worried and Caroline can't even begin to let herself go there—can't even think what it could mean if the angel that literally yanked Dean out of Hell is casting low, nervous looks at the clock.

Finally, _finally_ she hears the distinct rumbling of the Impala's engine and she springs up out of her seat and basically runs out the door, Sam not far behind her.

Dean gets out of the car and frowns at them as she and Sam both start flinging questions at him—_The hell were you, Dean;_ and _you can't just disappear like that, Dean, not after everything! God!_

"Inside," is all he says, tone as brusque as John Winchester's ever was, and he brushes past them into the house. Sam lets out an irritated noise and says, on Dean's heels, "What the hell happened?"

Dean waits until they're gathered around the kitchen counter, Caroline and Sam shooting matching glares at him. Castiel peeks his head in but when he sees the look on Dean's face, his expression becomes extremely uncomfortable and he retreats back to the safety of the living room without a word.

None of them even notice. "Met your psycho stalker boyfriend at the Grill," Dean growls in Caroline's direction and she pales, her stomach flipping as her eyes rapidly scan him for any obvious injuries. When she finds none, she can barely manage to protest weakly, "He's _not_ my—" before Dean continues as though she hadn't spoken.

"Dude's a creep, Caroline, and I don't care if he spends the rest of his undead life saving puppies or kittens or freaking babies from burning buildings. He's straight up evil. No more secret meetings, got it? _None_." He turns his attention to Sam and Caroline feels herself deflate; she wants to sink right into the floor. "Did you _know_ about that?" He emphasizes _that_ by jerking his head in Caroline's direction.

Sam sighs and says, "Not until recently."

Dean throws both of his hands up, looking at them with furious disbelief on his face. "Great! So not only is the world's longest running serial killer obsessed with my little sister, but he also has an open invite into our house and she _lets him in_ and no one's even a little bit concerned by any of this?"

"Dean—" Caroline starts (but she has honestly no idea what she even wants to say, because it's not like any of that is _wrong_) but he cuts her off by gripping her shoulders tightly and saying fiercely, "Don't let the romantic drawings and the Cinderella dresses turn you into an idiot, Caroline! Use your _brain_ here. He's got a thousand years of experience playing the charmer, but in the end, he's still a monster. He's not Tyler Lockwood—you can't save him by being his friend."

Swallowing hard, she has to give Dean credit because he knows exactly how to isolate her motivations (even the ones that are buried so deeply that she's unaware of them) and that pierces right through her heart. Tears prick behind her eyelids as she nods silently and she's pretty sure she's cried more in the past two weeks than she has in months (but then, she's cried more in the past few months than in the entire first fifteen years of her life, so whatever). Dean's green eyes hold onto hers for a moment longer before she finds herself in an embrace so tight that it'd be nearly choking if she were still human.

"He doesn't get to have you," Dean says forcefully into the top of her head. "When this is over, we—you're done with him, got it?' She nods again even as she looks over at Sam through wet eyelashes. There's a whole range of emotions playing over his face and he returns her gaze helplessly.

Caroline sniffles and whispers into Dean's shirt, "What did he _say_ to you?" He tenses but his arms stay locked around her.

"It wasn't what he said," Dean says lowly, voice still tinged with fury. "It was the way he said it, and the entitled little bastard he is. Assholes like him think that they can just take whatever they want." His arms drop and his hands go to her face. "Your problem, Care, is that you think people like Klaus can be better, that they secretly _want_ to be better. He doesn't want you to change him—he wants to change _you_."

Even as she nods a third time and feels his chin on top of her crown, she can't help but think that he's wrong. Her conversations with Klaus replay in her mind—a loop of _I don't know why you like me...we're nothing alike _and _that's exactly why I like you…beautiful, strong, and full of light._ She bites her lip and meets Sam's eyes again. He doesn't look like he believes Dean all that much either.

_Neither one of you is leaving the other alone._

…

The TV in the living room is blaring the morning news when Caroline settles briefly on the couch with a blood bag, her car keys tossed haphazardly on the coffee table. Castiel is watching it with rapt attention and when he notices her, he motions to the screen and asks, "Why is there no good news?"

She shrugs as she watches and says, "Bad news sells better. Honestly, the angels should just leave us to our own devices. Humanity's doing just fine destroying itself all on its own." The reporter says something about an animal attack and she shushes Castiel when he tries to speak, turning the volume up.

"…just outside the Mystic Grill," the reporter says, and Caroline's eyes narrow. "The victim was a noted member of the Mystic Falls community: the father of three, and grandfather of two. The police have advised everyone to keep aware of their surroundings…" She mutes it disgustedly and pulls her phone out, tapping on her mother's number as Castiel watches her curiously.

It rings twice before Liz answers, sounding harried, "Hey Care, I can't talk very long. Everything okay?"

Caroline gets right to the point. "Animal attack, Mom?" Liz sighs heavily into the phone and she responds quietly, "No." Before she can let out the stream of obscenities that are resting on the tip of her tongue, Liz adds sternly, "Stay away from it, Caroline. Don't get involved."

"How can you—"

Someone in the background asks for Liz's signature and she sighs into the phone, "Honey, I have to run. But for my peace of mind, leave it, okay?"

Caroline closes her eyes and screws up her face in frustration but doesn't promise anything, saying only, "Be careful, Mom. Love you," before hanging up.

Castiel is staring at her intensely. "You know who is responsible for that attack?"

She waves the now-empty blood bag at him. "Vampire. And I'm like 99% sure I know which one." Grabbing her keys and her school bag, she tosses the blood bag in the trashcan in the kitchen and is so focused on getting to her car that she nearly runs right into Castiel in the driveway.

"Who was it?" he asks, blocking her car door and crossing his arms. "One of the Original ones?" He shakes his head when she doesn't answer. "Which one, Caroline?"

"I'm going to be late for school, Cas."

He gives her that look that makes her feel like he can see right into her soul and she shrinks back a little as he says, "I don't think you were going to school."

"Yeah, well," she says, trying for sassy and falling _so _short. "Sounds like you have trust issues, which is kind of a personal problem, so…" and she tries to scoot around him. He doesn't even move a muscle, just watches her awkwardly attempt to get in her car with him still standing in front of the door.

"You're going to see the Original vampires," he says and she scowls, "and you can't go alone."

"I'm eighteen years old, Castiel," she points out irritably, fully aware that if she sounds this whiny to herself then he must find it gratingly childish. "I'm an adult."

"I'm older than the human race," he reminds her, and ok fine, that's pretty much a trump-all card, "and Dean and Sam would be highly upset if something happened to you." He pauses. "And so would I." She blinks at that and it requires some serious effort on her part to not melt into a warm, happy puddle at his feet; but she still shakes her head and says, "It's a bad idea, Cas." He regards her then finally moves and she frowns because she has no idea how she won this argument—but then he's waiting patiently at her passenger door and she repeats, "No way."

"I'll stay in the car."

"No!"

"If you're worried about my safety, I can assure you that vampires cannot hurt me."

"Cas—"

"Caroline."

They engage in a brief staring contest before she relents and says, pointing her finger at him, "Promise to stay in the car?" He nods gravely.

"_Fine_," she grouses.

…

"This house seems far too extravagant for one family," Castiel observes, eyes falling on the fountain. "And that seems entirely unnecessary."

"Tell me about it," Caroline grumbles, parking and cutting the engine. She makes no move to get out and Castiel looks over at her curiously.

"You aren't going to go in?"

"I have to work my nerve up first," she explains, eyes focused on the ornate double doors. "They're all terrifying, but Klaus…he can take it to new levels. We're talking, like, up to eleven. And I'm not exactly about to make his day." She takes a deep breath, forages around her bag for the bracelet that must have been a boomerang in a past life and slides it into her back pocket. She opens her door and says over her shoulder to Castiel, "Stay here. Unless I start screaming or something."

Castiel looks alarmed. "Is there a possibility of that?"

"You never know with him," she says darkly. "He's a moody one." _Understatement of the decade_.

She sets her jaw, squares her shoulders and forces herself to think of the poor man outside the Grill. She thinks of his three kids who will never see him again, and on top of that, he was a _grandpa_. Klaus literally killed someone's grandpa; and then there's the added horrible factor all of this awfulness being sparked by his conversation with Dean. Cold fingers of anger—or maybe fear, she can't really tell the difference right now—clench inside her abdomen as she rings the Mikaelson doorbell.

Her hand is barely back down by her side when the door swings open; and Klaus is just standing there like, _oh hey it's just a normal Tuesday morning even though I murdered someone last night_ and it absolutely infuriates her.

He doesn't say anything, just steps aside for her to come in and as she walks inside she says acidly, "So, did you have fun last night?"

"I'm afraid I don't know to which part of my night you're referring, sweetheart," he drawls slowly, looking amused and she is possessed by the overwhelming urge to throw something at him. She can smell it on him, the scent of fresh blood clinging to him somehow; her gums ache slightly and she viciously doubles down on the craving.

"Playing dumb doesn't look good on you," she snaps. "You killed some poor kid's _grandpa_ because, what, some conversation you had with my stepbrother pissed you off, or pushed your evil button or whatever? It's sick. _Seriously_, why would you do that?"

Klaus's face isn't exactly angry but he's definitely not amused anymore. "Have you forgotten what I am, Caroline? What _you_ are? They are food, and they will only ever be food."

She scoffs and says, deliberately recalling her words from the ball, "They're just _ants_ to you, right? Just a means to an end. Just like Jenna, just like Elena, just like Tyler," his mouth curls in distaste but she plows forward, "and just like me." She pulls the bracelet out of her back pocket and closes the distance between them.

"It's insulting how you think I can be bought," Caroline tells him disdainfully, her eyes locked with his. She takes one of his hands in her own, unfurls his fingers so that his palm is flat and drops the bracelet unceremoniously in the center before wrapping his fingers around it in a tight fist. She doesn't let go, her hands clenching hard over his. "No amount of diamonds is going to make up for the fact that you've killed people I care about for your own selfish agenda and you don't feel even the slightest bit of remorse. My _God_, you can't even acknowledge how you were completely prepared to sacrifice me to break your stupid hybrid curse!"

A muscle in his jaw jumps and he says through gritted teeth, "I didn't even know you." It doesn't escape her that he ignores—or refuses to hear—the first part of her declaration.

"Yeah and clearly you still don't," she retorts and his eyes flash dangerously. "Since you still assume you can buy my forgiveness with shiny jewelry and pretty dresses. But fine, we'll go with that—you didn't know me then and you wouldn't kill me now. Because seriously, Klaus, that's my whole point. You didn't know me and you don't know them. There's no difference between the two."

"Of course there is a difference," he snaps, losing his already tenuous grip on his patience and his eyes flashing. "You're eternal—you will still be here long after they have returned to dust and that makes you _better_."

Caroline shakes her head at him, her hands still gripping painfully tight around his fist. "No, don't you get it? That makes humans _precious_. Their time is so fleeting—they're here for a moment and then they're gone, but we're left behind. That doesn't make us better, Klaus, it makes us pitiful." She lets go of his hand and takes a step back, never breaking away from his gaze. "I'm so sorry that you can't see that."

Everything in his face changes but before she can bolt—before she can even blink, he's tossed the bracelet somewhere beside him and moves in front of her, his hands wrapping around her upper arms. She recognizes the look in his eyes; it's the same one that Stefan used to give Elena, like he was drowning and she'd thrown him a rope—_morning after a thousand years of night._ Her breath hitches and she thinks briefly that if he kisses her, then he's totally missed the point. But he doesn't.

Klaus bows his head slightly, eyes downcast towards the floor, and rests his forehead against hers. _Holy mood swings, Batman_, she thinks dizzily. His breath brushes against her face and he says, very quietly and almost reverently, "When this is over, go away with me. Paris, Rome, Tokyo—anywhere you want, Caroline. I'll take you."

Her heart skips a beat and warmth hums through her veins, but Caroline can't fathom how he doesn't see that trips around the world are just diamond bracelets on a grander scale. She pulls away slightly, and he lets her, but he doesn't let go of her arms. "You're doing it again," she points out exasperatedly. "Trying to buy something instead of earning it."

He's silent and those dark blue eyes could swallow her whole if she let them. "How can I acquit myself?"

She pulls away again and this time he does let her go. "I can't tell you that," she says softly. "Figuring it out is part of the process, Klaus."

He laughs shortly but it lacks humor. "And what process is that, love?"

Her head tilts and she feels a flash of sympathy for him—for the person he was a thousand years ago. "Being better," she says simply.

…

She skips school.

Castiel stares at her disapprovingly from the passenger seat but she ignores him and says, "It's just been a rough morning and I've barely been absent all year, so it's fine. And look!" She waves her phone at him. "Elena said she'll take notes for me, and she's _meticulous_." He shakes his head at her and frowns.

The Impala is still in the driveway when she parks on the street and Castiel scolds, "You should have gone to school," as they walk into the house. She pulls him in close by his collar and whispers urgently, "Don't tell them where we were, Cas. _Promise_." He looks taken aback, then nods reluctantly. She relaxes and lets him go; he mumbles something about tea and heads for the kitchen.

Sam sees her first; he has musty leather bound books in the crook of one arm and his brow furrows with concern. "What are you doing home? You feeling okay?" His free hand automatically goes to her forehead to check for a fever and she smiles a little.

"Just couldn't do it today," she tells him honestly and he grimaces in understanding.

"Yeah, last night was a doozey." He hands her the book on top of his stack. "Since you're here, you get to help research."

"Lucky me," she drawls good-naturedly, glancing at the cover of the book he's just handed her. "Looks old."

"That's because it _is_ old," he says with a grin and Dean stumbles up behind him, rubbing his face groggily. He blinks blearily and when his gaze falls on Caroline, she bites her lip and gives him her sweetest smile.

"S'today some holiday? Columbus Day or something?" he asks, voice gravelly with sleep, and Sam answers amusedly, "Nope. Care's ditching. And Columbus Day isn't a school holiday, Dean."

"_Thanks_, Sam," Caroline says irritably and Dean becomes much more alert, his eyes narrowing.

"You. School. Now." He jabs his finger at the door for emphasis and she rolls her eyes.

"Dean—"

"Nope, not listening," he says over her, his hand going to her back and guiding her towards the door. "Go learn something." Sam laughs and disappears into the living room.

Caroline plants her feet firmly just short of the door and crosses her arms. "You know, for someone who played hooky for half of high school, you're being really bossy about my attendance record."

"The difference is that you're going to college," he tells her, and he flicks her nose affectionately. "You and Sammy, peas in a pod."

"One absence isn't enough to affect college," she informs him and she holds out the book Sam had handed her. "I need to feel useful, Dean. I've got to help or I might lose my mind."

Dean considers her and she puts on her best pleading face before he finally relents. "Next time you wanna be useful, Care, volunteer to make the pie runs."

…

"Hang on a second," Caroline says slowly, eyes focused on a yellowing page. Sam and Dean both look up, and Castiel glances her way. "How exactly were you planning on finding the Four Horsemen, Cas?"

He frowns and says, "I've been making careful inquiries amongst the Host and down here, but they've proven elusive. Why? Did you find something?"

She holds up the book. "They're not _here_, Cas. You don't find them, you summon them."

Sam leans forward and holds his hand out for the book. "Can I see that?" She passes it to him and he scans the pages.

"I don't understand," Castiel says, his expression puzzled.

"It says you have to get a proxy," Sam says slowly and Caroline nods. "It's like a locator spell," she explains. "To find someone with a locator spell, you have to use the closest you can get to their blood. So, like, if Dean went missing, Bonnie would use Sam to find him."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with a proxy?" Dean wants to know, fingers drumming on the table.

"You have to have something of theirs. But the catch is, you have to have something specific from each Horseman."

"It's a ring," Sam breaks in quietly. "You have to have a ring from each Horseman and you can only summon them separately."

"So the Host of Heaven is out looking for these rings and we have to find them first," Dean summarizes, looking over at Castiel.

"That makes sense," Castiel says thoughtfully. "It explains why no one could tell me where the Horsemen are."

"I'll put the word out," Sam says and Caroline doesn't say anything, but she does make a mental note to pass the notice along to Klaus or Elijah. Surely in a thousand years of executing their own unique brand of terror, they stumbled across someone or something that could help them find a set of rings.

…

As soon as the clock chimes 3:00, Caroline bolts from the kitchen in a pique of research-induced restlessness and calls Elena from her room.

"Yeah, I'll let Elijah know," Elena says and she must have gone straight from school to Salvatore boarding house because as soon as she says Elijah's name, Caroline hears Damon and Stefan start to argue in the background.

"Do you want me to come over there?" Caroline asks hesitantly. "Referee or something?"

Elena sighs heavily and Caroline can hear the exhaustion in her friend's voice. "Actually, I'd rather come over there, if that's okay. I can't be here anymore," and Caroline doesn't miss her pointed tone.

"Yeah," she says agreeably, "it's fine. Come on over."

Ten minutes later, Elena storms into Caroline's bedroom, dropping several choice obscenities.

"Jeez, Elena, what happened?"

Elena scowls and starts pacing in front of the bed. "I'm just _so_ sick of Stefan and Damon trying to control my life, Care."

"So don't let them. You're the only person who controls your life, Elena, and honestly, it's past time Stefan and Damon got over themselves and remembered that."

"It's not that simple," Elena protests, but there's little conviction in her voice. Caroline rolls her eyes but before she can further argue her point, there's a brief knock on her bedroom door.

"Sorry to interrupt," Sam says, sticking his head in. "But there's a guy at the door for you, Elena."

Elena shoots Caroline a guilty look. "I called Elijah on my way over and told him to meet me here. Is that okay? I can talk to him on the porch if you don't want to invite him in."

Caroline shakes her head. "He's already been invited in." At Sam's disgruntled noise, she explains, "He told Mom he was a historian doing research on Mystic Falls before anyone knew he really was."

When they follow Sam out into the living room, Castiel is eyeing Elijah with obvious curiosity while a muscle in Dean's jaw jumps sporadically. Elijah rises politely when he sees Elena and Caroline.

"Elena, Caroline," he greets them genially and Caroline watches interestedly as Elena's face begins to turn slightly pink.

"Thanks for coming," Elena says to him warmly, and he tilts his head slightly in acknowledgement. "We need your help looking for something." She glances over at Caroline, but it's Castiel who answers.

"You are familiar with the Book of Revelation?" Caroline stifles a snort and Dean mutters, "Subtle, Cas."

Elijah looks faintly amused and says, "Of course I am. What do you need?"

Sam takes over, handing him the open book on the table. "We need to summon the Four Horsemen, but the only way to do that is to find these rings that belong to each of them." He pauses then adds, "And there's kind of a time crunch. We have to find them before the angels do."

Elijah considers them. "I'll begin right away," he says and then his eyes focus directly on Caroline. "If I may have a word in private with you?"

She blinks in surprise and Dean stiffens, saying shortly, "Not gonna happen, Lurch."

"Shut up, Dean," Caroline says, and she nods to Elijah. "I'll walk you to your car." She can feel four sets of eyes on her back as they walk outside.

He is silent as they reach his car and Caroline crosses her arms as she stops. "So what do you want to talk about?" She has a strong suspicion she knows already but she's kind of hoping she's wrong.

"It's about Niklaus," Elijah says and Caroline curses internally.

"I figured. What about him?"

He is silent for a few moments, his eyes focused on a spot just beyond her shoulder. "You came to see him today. Why?"

She shrugs awkwardly. "You should ask him about that."

"But I'm asking you," he says and Caroline suppresses a shiver. Elijah scares her in a completely different way than Klaus: dark and quietly threatening as opposed to bold and bloody displays of violence.

"He killed someone last night," she tells him softly. "After talking to Dean for two hours." She pauses. "You aren't the only ones who care about family."

Eljiah's eyes move to her face and she has to force herself to stand steady and not shrink back. "I had thought that any humanity left in Niklaus was burned away long ago. It would appear that I was mistaken."

"The man he killed was someone's grandfather, and he wasn't even sorry," Caroline says bleakly, rubbing her forehead frustratedly. "So I wouldn't be so sure."

Elijah gives her a long, unreadable look that makes Caroline shift uncomfortably. "I am quite sure," he tells her enigmatically. "Some of who he was, the brother I had a thousand years ago, remains. But I must warn you to tread carefully, Caroline. One misstep could have disastrous consequences."

She is frozen to the spot and only moves when she realizes that Elijah is gone and that his car is already down her street. Dean storms up to her, seething.

"The hell was that?" he demands and Caroline slowly shakes her head, not answering. Dean scowls and follows her as she walks back into the house.

Elena is gripping her ribcage with watery eyes when they reenter the house and Caroline smiles in sympathy. "You know what we should do?" She doesn't wait for Elena to answer. "We should have a completely normal afternoon. No Apocalypse, vampire, Original, or whatever talk. Just regular stuff like—"

"Psychotic vamp stalkers?" Dean offers with false helpfulness, eyes dark and Caroline shoots him a dirty look, retorting, "Or like how annoying siblings can be."

Elena straightens, hand falling from her ribs. "What's he talking about, Care?"

"Nothing!" Caroline insists, just as Dean says darkly, "That Original hybrid nutcase has a freaking _thing_ for her."

Elena stares at Caroline and her brown eyes are filled with concern. "Caroline, if Klaus is—"

Caroline cuts her off by taking Elena's arm and pulling her down the hallway, tossing a glare at Dean over her shoulder. Once they are inside her room, Caroline says placatingly, "It's nothing, really." At Elena's _Please, I'm not an idiot_ expression, she corrects herself. "He just has this like…crush on me. It's not a big deal, please don't freak out." Elena's eyes widen and she pales slightly; Caroline winces.

"Of course it's a big deal!" Elena cries, taking Caroline's hands in her own, her long brown hair swishing over Caroline's arms. "Care, he…he killed _Jenna_, and—and Tyler, and—"

"And you," Caroline finishes quietly, looking away. "I know. But now something seems different, Elena. _Not_," she rushes to add at the horrified look in Elena's eyes, "that I reciprocate in any shape, form or fashion because I definitely _don't_. But…" she trails off and bites her lip. "I'm doing a crap job of explaining, but trust me. Something's changed."

"Caroline," Elena says softly, taking a few steps closer. "You can't save Klaus. There is nothing left in him that is worth it, that is worth _you_."

Caroline gives her a tiny smile. "Dean said pretty much the exact same thing. But just for the record, I'm not trying to save anyone. I know a lost cause when I see one."

Elena tilts her head and her bottomless brown eyes hold onto Caroline's. "I hope so," she says doubtfully, and Caroline knows her best friend well enough to see that Elena doesn't believe her at all.

"We need him on our side," Caroline reminds her gently. "When everything gets back to normal, we can decide what to do about this mess."

Elena grips her hands tightly. "Promise me you'll be careful."

Caroline offers her a bright smile. "Of course."

…

"I think your demon army has arrived," Liz says over dinner, handing Dean a manila folder filled with papers. "Lots of weird things happening to people who never have weird things happen."

Caroline offers her the bowl of peas with a beam. "You have to work less, Mom. It's been so long since we all had dinner together." She turns her happy face to Dean who gives her a sarcastically wide grin back before rolling his eyes.

Liz sighs and pats Caroline's shoulder as she takes the bowl and spoons peas onto her plate. "I know, sweetie, but that's probably not going to happen anytime soon." She turns back to Dean. "You need to talk to them. Make sure they understand that as soon as this thing is over, they're out."

"They know," Sam says resignedly and Liz pins him with a look. "Then tell them they need to blend in, because right now they're doing a piss poor job of it." She gestures to the folder Dean is flipping through. "People are ignorant of what's going on, but they're not stupid. They know when their spouses, parents, or kids are acting off."

"We'll talk to them," Dean promises, passing the folder to Sam before pointing to Caroline. "No exorcising 'em. Even if they're in one of your friends."

"Wait, what?" Caroline demands. "You can't be serious—"

"Part of the deal," he says. "If it makes you feel better, they can't hop in Bonnie or Elena." At her confused glare, he explains darkly, "Witch, doppelganger. Demons can't drive supernatural cars."

"But—but Matt and Jeremy!" she protests, turning a little desperately to Sam for help. He shakes his head regretfully and she deflates. "So the entire town is going to end up possessed and fighting in the Apocalypse. Doesn't that defeat the whole purpose of protecting the town?" She narrows her eyes at Liz.

"Only the demons without meat suits are possessing people from Mystic Falls," Dean corrects her and Caroline flinches a little. "The ones already possessing people will get here soon."

"Sooner than you think," Liz says grimly. "Got a bunch of calls today about suspicious looking people snooping around. The phone was still ringing when I left."

"Great," Caroline mutters, tossing her fork down. "Just _wonderful._"

"Ahem." All four of them look up and Castiel is awkwardly hovering in the kitchen doorway. Caroline watches sullenly as Liz puts on her best hostess face and stands up, regarding him with interest. "You must Castiel."

He nods and then steps aside. "And this is Anna."

Sam chokes on his drink, Dean's fork drops with clatter, and Caroline stares at her.

"Hello," Anna, the angelic version of Elijah, says politely.

"Uh," Sam manages and Caroline shakes herself out of her stupor while Dean continues to gawk.

"I'm Caroline," she says, sticking her hand out in greeting. Anna stares at it and Caroline realizes that she has no idea what to do when she looks to Castiel for help; she lets her hand fall back to her side. "So you're Cas's friend?"

"She's decided to fight with us," Castiel says helpfully and Anna nods vigorously in agreement.

"Great!" Caroline says brightly and Dean recovers enough to say, "The more the merrier. Any chance there's more on the way?"

"That has yet to be determined," Castiel says gravely and Anna adds, "Michael is very convincing in his arguments for the destruction of humanity."

Dean physically recoils at the name Michael and fear spikes through Caroline's heart—_I'm supposed to fight with the angels_. Something snaps inside of her and she's done being kept in the dark about this. She stands and pulls Dean up with her, saying with exaggerated cheerfulness to Cas and Anna, "So nice to meet you, but I—I'm having boy problems and I really need Dean's advice, so if you'll excuse us—"

"What the hell, Care?" Dean says but there's no bite to it as she yanks him into her room and shuts the door firmly. "When you say boy problems, you better mean Tyler Lockwood problems."

She ignores him and says accusingly, "You have yet to explain what you meant when you first came back—about the angels thinking you're on their side. Start talking."

He tenses and her stomach rolls. "Dean, if you don't tell me, I'm going to imagine the worst. Just tell me what's going on."

"Care—"

"Dean, _please_."

He sighs and falls back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling, hands crossed over his stomach. She lies down next to him, her legs dangling off the edge, and waits.

"The angels didn't gank me out of Hell from the goodness of their hearts," he says carefully. Caroline keeps her gaze focused on her ceiling. "Here's the thing. The person you see when you look at Cas—that's not the real Castiel. It's the guy he's…." Dean shrugs one shoulder. "It's possession but it's different than the demonic kind." Caroline starts to interrupt and he holds up his hand to stop her. "They have to have the person's permission."

"What does that have to do with you?"

"Angels can't stay very long on earth in their real form," he tells her. "They all need a vessel—a person to stay in. But Michael…he's an archangel."

"How is does that make him different from Cas?"

Dean turns his head towards her. "He's seen God," he says quietly and Caroline sits up immediately.

"_What?_"

Dean sits up as well. "Not in a long time, according to Cas, but yeah. The four archangels have all seen God. They're like the head honchos—the five-star generals. So when they take a vessel, it's different from when an angel like Cas does." He stares straight ahead at the collection of pictures tacked to Caroline's wall over her desk. "They have to have a specific person because normal vessels can't deal with it."

"So…so you just don't give him permission to like, take over your brain and that's it!" she exclaims, grabbing one of his hands. "If he can't fight—"

"Care," Dean says reservedly. "They have very powerful methods of persuasion." The words barely register with her; in her mind she sees the battle as already halfway won because no way Dean lets some ball of light mind zap him.

"So you just hold your ground," she replies, as though it's the easiest, most obvious thing in the world and Dean shakes his head.

"You're not hearing me, Caroline," he tells her firmly, taking her face in his hands, green eyes boring into hers. "Listen to me. The first—and only—time they've approached me, they gave me super advanced stomach cancer and took away Sam's freaking _lungs_."

All the blood in her face drains away and her hands shake as they circle Dean's wrists. "W—what? They can…they can do that?"

"Tip of the iceberg on what they can do."

She stares at him. "Why haven't they tried anything recently?"

"Don't know for sure. Cas thinks it has something to do with all the weird crap in Mystic Falls—vamps, witches, werewolves, the works. And now I've got my angelic Invisibility Cloak, so." He shrugs.

Caroline gnaws on the inside of her cheek before offering hesitantly, "I—I'm not saying I want this to happen, or even that it's a good idea, but…but if having you is their key to winning…" _Coward_, she chastises herself. _Can't even say it._

"Don't even think about it," he says firmly and she flushes.

"Dean—"

His hands clasp her shoulders, his tone final. "I'm not becoming a vampire, Caroline."

"I don't want you to become one either, Dean, but what if it's the only way to stop the _Apocalypse?_"

Anger, fear, love, and a myriad of other emotions war for domination of his face and she swallows the lump in her throat. "Care," he says quietly, his fingers going to her chin. "Being a vampire doesn't automatically mean you have to bat for Team Evil. You know that—hell, you're proof of that."

She struggles to speak around the iron claws digging into her throat. "But then why? Don't you—" she hiccups and his grip on her shoulders tightens. "Don't you want to stay with me? Because I'll have to lose you—you and Sam, and I c-can't—"

Dean silences her by pulling her into his chest and she thinks to herself that this exact scene, her crying messily into his shirt, has happened way too many times recently.

"It's not that, Care. It's nothing like that," he assures her, his voice gravelly and her control on her tears wavers. "It's just...I'm still holding out hope that when I get to where I'm going, that…you know, my mom will be there. And I'd rather not put that off longer than necessary."

That sends her straight over the edge into sobbing and in her mind she remembers an old Winchester family portrait that John had squirreled away (but that a thirteen year old rebellious Sam had shown her): Mary Winchester with a tiny Dean on her lap, staring up adoringly at her; and a baby Sam in the crook of her elbow, one of his fat fists gripping a thick piece of blonde hair. Caroline's shoulders shake and her nose drips while tears streak down her face. "But I'll never see you again," she manages to force out between desperate gasps for air that she doesn't actually need. She doesn't care that she's being selfish, doesn't care that she's actually channeling Klaus right now because if there were a way she could guarantee Sam and Dean's safety for eternity she'd do it, consequences be damned.

"Of course you will," he tells her firmly and he sounds so sure of himself that her hysterics slow, her breath coming in more evenly. "You'll stick around here for a while, check out the flying cars and what life on the moon is like, but then you'll realize that no one thinks your Jetsons jokes are funny. Then you'll decide you'd rather be with me and Sammy, because we always laugh at your jokes, no matter how dumb, and that'll be it."

She doesn't say anything, just wipes her face with his shirt, ignoring his affronted noise. As her breathing slows and her heart calms down, he says affectionately, "I would say you owe me a new shirt, but I'll let it go this one time. Just because I love you."

…

After telling Dean she's exhausted (true) and that she is going straight to bed (not true), Caroline listens closely at her door to make sure the group in the living room is completely focused on their own conversation before slowly opening her window. At every squeak, she winces and freezes, listening hard for pauses, but none are forthcoming, so she continues until her window is fully opened. Checking one last time for suspicions in the living room and hearing nothing, she slips outside and runs into the woods.

She's not really hungry, and squirrels and bunnies don't exactly taste good, but she needs the distraction—needs to escape her own head, really. The forest is quiet except for the small scratching and squeaks of the very things she's hunting.

Her concentration is so focused on one pesky squirrel that she doesn't notice the cracking of twigs and leaves behind her; she nearly jumps out of her skin when Stefan Salvatore says, "Hey."

She whirls around, one hand clasped to her chest. "God, Stefan! Don't _do_ that!"

He looks annoyingly amused, eyes laughing at her. "Sorry. What are you doing out here? I thought you were exclusively on blood bags."

She shrugs and turns back to the now entirely silent woods; Stefan must have scared the animals into hiding. "Needed to clear my head." At his questioning look, she clarifies only slightly, "Lots of stuff going on."

"Oh," he says and she tries to ignore the curiosity in his voice. "Want to talk about it?"

Caroline eyes him suspiciously, searching his face. "Are you really back to being you?"

He gives her a half-hearted smile. "Trying to be."

She considers him before finally relenting. "You can't tell anyone, especially not Elena. Or Damon. Or Bonnie. Or—"

"I know what anyone means," he breaks in with a small laugh. "What's up?"

She sighs heavily and turns her back to him; she really doesn't want to see his expression post-confession. "Klaus has a crush on me and I'm not totally disgusted by it."

When she peeks back to gauge Stefan's reaction, his thoughtful expression takes her a little by surprise.

"You're not freaking out?" she asks, eyebrows knitting together in confusion and Stefan gives her this mysterious little smile. Her curiosity is immediately piqued. "What do you know that I don't?"

"I knew Klaus before all of this," he says nonchalantly and she blinks in surprise, because _what_? "In the twenties."

"Was he the same as he is now?"

Stefan's eyes lose their focus and he says slowly, "Yes and no. Yeah, he was still crazy, but…we were real friends, Caroline. Brothers."

She inches closer to him. "Were you…you know, crazy Ripper Stefan?"

He laughs humorlessly. "Yeah. But I never flipped the switch." Caroline refrains from reminding him that that makes all of it so much worse and he goes on, "There was enough feeling left in him—enough humanity, I guess, to have real friendship."

"I don't think he wants me to just be his friend," Caroline says quietly, looking down at her shoes; they scuff against each other as she shifts her weight from foot to foot.

"What do you want?"

Avoiding his gaze, she looks up to the black sky, at the stars winking over them, and says unhappily, "For none of this to be real."

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that's not an option," he remarks dryly.

"I know," she whispers, eyes locked contemplatively on the North Star; and a fourteen year old Sam whispers in her head, _You're never lost if you can find the North Star, Caroline_. "I don't know what I want, and that's not okay, Stefan, because it should be easy. I don't hate him, and that's the problem because I _should_ hate him, after everything's he's done to us!" She gestures at him. "Case in point."

Stefan gives her a sad, understanding smile. "You can't help how you feel, Care. It's part of what keeps you human. And after you've been a vampire for a while, you start to realize that everyone has skeletons in their closets."

She shakes her head and says fiercely, "No, I get that. But Klaus has been around for a thousand years, Stefan. If he killed only one person for every year he's been alive—or undead, or whatever—that's a _thousand_ people. You and I both know that's the absolute smallest number possible and the real one is probably miles away from that."

"It is a lot of people," he agrees softly, gaze never wavering from her face. "But you haven't answered my question. What do you want? Not what you think you should want, or what Elena and Bonnie expect you to want," he adds as she opens her mouth. "What does Caroline Forbes want?"

She swallows hard and whispers, "I don't know, and that's the problem. What does that say about me if I can't even resist a mass murderer?"

"Elena couldn't either," Stefan reminds her gently, a flicker of shame dancing across his face. "Don't be too hard on yourself." He takes both of her hands in his and says kindly, "Whatever you decide, Caroline, I'll be there. Regardless of the fallout."

She nods jerkily. "Promise?"

He smiles down at her. "What are best friends for?"

…

Caroline is slipping quickly and silently down the back streets that lead to her house when she sees Matt standing in his front yard, still as a stone and staring up at the sky. Dread creeps through her and she approaches him cautiously.

"Hey, Matt," she calls out quietly and he turns his head slowly to look at her, his face blank. "Everything okay?"

He stares at her until she starts to fidget nervously and she repeats, "Matt, are you okay?"

"You are a fool, Caroline," he says flatly and she sees red, the dread twisting into anger.

"Get out of my friend, asshole," she hisses, grabbing his collar and ignoring Dean's orders to overlook any of her friends' possible demonic possession. "Find someone else to play puppet master with."

His face doesn't change at all; he doesn't even flinch. "You are a fool," he says again, "for fighting on the wrong side."

Her entire body goes ice cold and she lets go of him, backing up. "W-what?"

Matt looks up to the sky and says, "The Host of Heaven will not stop, will not rest, until there is nothing left of this place. You are fighting a losing battle."

She takes another step back. "Matt—Matt, this isn't funny."

He doesn't look at her. "This is a war the Winchesters will not win," he says emotionlessly, and when he finally turns towards her, she nearly passes out as dark black wings shadow out behind him.

…

**tbc.**

* * *

**A/N: **Cliffhanger! All feedback (positive, negative, or 'meh') is welcome and greatly appreciated. If you Favorite or Story Alert, please consider reviewing as well. ~xo


	6. five

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, alas. Title belongs to Explosions in the Sky.

**A/N:** As always, AU/AH. Fair warning—a little bit more dramatic cussing from here on out. Also, if you can spot the _Veronica Mars_ reference, you get a cookie! BTW, quick rant—why are there no Southern accents on TVD? They're in _Virginia_. As a native of the Southern US (though admittedly not Virginia), I object to this. They should drop the occasional 'y'all' at the very least. Like I'm about to.

**Totally Irrelevant Sidebar:** Y'ALL. I just started watching _Teen Wolf_ on MTV and if you like TVD, you should definitely give this show a chance (especially because it's summer and there's not much else to do, amiright?). I cringed my way through the first episode (it's a necessary evil, much like the first few episodes of TVD) then promptly watched the entire first season (it's only 13 episodes) in one night. Every episode has some kind of tense _OMG IT'S RIGHT BEHIND YOU_ scene and genuinely horrific imagery. It takes a lot of inspiration from TVD (they play Mystic Falls in lacrosse at one point—it's super covert and is this total blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment but it made me giggle) and the Mayors Lockwood (!) are both in it (now if only cousin Tyler would make an appearance…).

/end of Public Service Announcement.

Anyway—thank you, as always, to all reviewers, alert-ers, and favorite-ers. If you haven't reviewed yet, please do so! And for those of you have, thank you and please don't stop reviewing! :) Enjoy, and let me know what you think. xo

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**5.**

"Fucking _great_," Damon snarls and Caroline winces at the venom in his voice because he's staring right at her, icy blue eyes drilling holes into her own. For a brief, tense moment Dean and Sam both move as though they're about to launch themselves at him, but Elena beats them both to the punch.

"Shut up, Damon," she snaps, one arm wrapped protectively around Caroline's shoulders and he obeys, but not before shooting one last sneer in her direction. "Did he—_it_—say its name?" Elena prods her gently.

"No," Caroline says softly, looking down at the floor and focusing on how the knees of her jeans are covered in mud from where, in her dual shock and desperation to flee, she had tripped over one of Kelly Donovan's tacky-ass garden gnomes and landed hard on all fours. "He just said that I'm a fool," and at that, Damon mutters something under his breath that has three sets of eyes glaring daggers at him while Caroline sticks to staring at her feet, "and that there's no way we're going to win." She brings a tired hand up to rub her forehead. "I didn't exactly stick around for introductions and niceties."

That's putting it lightly—once all of the instincts that millenniums of human evolution combined with all her heightened vampires senses had kicked in, Caroline had _bolted_ and her second attempt at escape worked out far better than the first.

The door to the Salvatore boarding house swings open ferociously and Stefan storms in, Bonnie and Tyler following close behind him.

"How the hell did this happen?" Tyler demands as soon as the door shuts and Caroline keeps her eyes on the floor because if this isn't all her fault, it's definitely at least _mostly_ her fault. How could she have just . . . _forgotten_ to clue Matt in on everything? Because if Caroline is truly honest with herself, she has to admit that Matt is the overwhelming favorite to get mind-jacked by a servant of Heaven—he's the only one of them who still believes the best in everything. There's no way that Matt, when confronted with _angels_ and left in the dark about their motivations, would ever consider the possibility that they were the nefarious party.

"Look," Dean says shortly. "It doesn't matter how it happened—it's done and Cas is working on figuring out who's pulling Matt's strings. And crap like this is gonna keep happening, and it's gonna start happening faster. They're gearing up, and it's _way_ freaking past time we did too."

Elena runs a nervous hand through her hair. "But what about everyone else? We can't just let them stay here to _die_—we have to do something!"

"Yeah, but there's no spell to get everyone out of town," Bonnie tells her unhappily, brows furrowing. "I looked through all of Emily's grimoires and no dice. We have to figure something else out."

When Damon pipes up, Caroline thinks savagely that he can't seem to resist hearing the sound of his own stupid voice. "Gas leak? Forest fire?"

They all stare blankly at him and he rolls his eyes back at them before Stefan says slowly, almost in disbelief, "Actually, that could work." Damon flashes him a self-satisfied smirk and says breezily, "_Thank_ you."

"You can't be serious," Bonnie says incredulously and something like inspiration dawns on Tyler's face as he considers Stefan and Damon.

"It totally could," Tyler says contemplatively, and Caroline tears herself away from the fascinating sight of her shoes to turn and look at him. He gestures to her. "Our moms would make everyone evacuate if a forest fire got big enough."

"Uh, are you forgetting the part where we have to actually _start_ a fire and that we would have no control over it after that? Come _on_," Dean says irritably and Sam stands and starts to pace.

"Could you control it, Bonnie?" he asks interestedly and Bonnie's brow furrows before she says doubtfully, "Yeah . . . but I don't know for how long. It would buy us some time, but your mom would have to keep the charade going for a while." This last sentence she directs at Tyler and he nods in fervent agreement.

"Whoa," Dean interjects dubiously, eyebrows slashing together. "Slow down, Smokey the Barely Legal. You really think the best option is _razing_ the town?"

"I'm with Dean. You can't seriously be considering this," Elena adds in protest, mouth tugging downwards as she stares at them. "We could burn the entire town to the ground by trying to save it!"

Damon flashes her a too-bright grin. "That would be just a little too ironic, even for Mystic Falls. And in the meantime," he points at her, Bonnie and Caroline, "you three better make like Charlie's Angels and figure out just who exactly crawled into our QB." As silence falls, he claps his hands dramatically. "Meeting adjourned! Now everyone get out and don't let the door hit you." He pauses and adds, before heading to his liquor cabinet, "Or, ya know, do. Whatever." Bonnie scoffs at him before she, Tyler, and Sam huddle together to plan how best to burn down the entire forest without destroying Mystic Falls; Caroline feels slightly ill. Dean scowls at all of them as Damon offers him a glass of whiskey; the scowl deepens and he mutters, "_Dick_," before taking it.

Stefan pulls Caroline aside as she stands up and when Elena sends her a _do you need me to handle this_ look, she shakes her head and allows herself to be tugged into the narrow hallway by the door.

He doesn't say anything, just raises his eyebrows knowingly at her and she says defensively, "I'm fine, Stefan." His eyebrows climb silently higher and she holds her ground for a few more seconds before caving. "Okay, I'm freaking out."

"Understandable," he says reassuringly, hands coming to rest on her shoulders and jostling her gently. "Feel free to sit this one out, Caroline."

She shakes her head emphatically. "It's my fault this happened to Matt, Stefan. If he had known about the war, about the angels not being on our side—"

He rolls his eyes at her, cutting her off. "And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Stop beating yourself up."

Caroline blinks at him in confusion. "That saying must be way old because I don't know what it means," she informs him matter-of-factly and he waves that off with an amused expression. "Don't worry about it. Just . . . go easy on yourself, Care. We've all been running around like chickens with their heads cut off."

Damon appears at his elbow before Caroline can reply. "Speaking of cutting heads off," he says cheerfully, tipping his glass at her, "Gotta warn the Originals 'bout this new little bump in the road."

"So tell them yourself. And how the hell did beheading lead you to that?" Caroline demands and Damon replies easily, "Because that's what Barbie Klaus wants to do to you." At Stefan's withering look, he says with a slight pout, "What? Just passing along a warning." He pinches Caroline's cheek with faux affection and when she smacks his hand away with a snarl, he leers mockingly at her. "Sassy. Bet Klaus likes that." Stefan jumps in between them because she's literally inches away from clawing Damon's eyes out when Sam calls warningly from the door, "You can kill him after the Apocalypse, Care."

Sending one last murderous glare Damon's way, she follows Sam and Dean out to the Impala.

"I don't like it," Dean announces as soon as they're all three in the privacy of the car. "It's a sucky, shitty plan."

"Do you have any better ideas?" Sam asks pointedly and when Dean glares at him but doesn't say anything, Sam gives him a _yeah, that's what I thought_ smirk.

"Drop me off at my dad's," Caroline instructs, leaning forward so that her face occupies the space between Dean and Sam's arms. "I have to get him out of here, and I'm not waiting around for a raging wildfire that may not even happen. Besides, I don't want to run the risk of him refusing to leave or coming back early."

"And how are you gonna do that?" Dean wants to know, shooting her freely hanging seatbelt a pointedly disapproving look. "You've been sneaking vervain into Bill and Steven's coffee for months, so compulsion's out."

"Truth might work," Sam says and Dean and Caroline snort at the same time; Dean turns slightly to grin at her before pointing to the seatbelt she isn't using. "Put that on, Caroline. I'm not getting a ticket because of your weird aversion to safety."

"Like Mom would give you a ticket," she mutters rebelliously, giving the seatbelt a nice, hard yank for good measure. "Easy!" Dean objects, wincing as though she's pulling on one of his internal organs.

She ignores him. "How about this—what if I said I entered them into some radio contest for a tropical vacation and they won? I could compel a hotel in the Bahamas to go along with it . . ."

"That—" Dean stops and exchanges a glance with Sam as he turns onto Bill Forbes's street. "—could actually work. But you're crazy if you think I'm dropping you off with freaking vengeful angels on the prowl."

... ... ...

Sam leans against Caroline's doorway as she scribbles down math formulas and counts on her fingers; he says casually, "There's someone at the door for you."

Her pencil pauses mid-scratch and she looks up. "Describe this someone."

He shrugs and wanders into her room, squinting at a framed photo of her, Bonnie, and Elena as twelve-year-old middle school cheerleaders. "Tall. Dark hair, dark eyes. Kind of a beefcake. Wearing this expression. " He looks over his shoulder and makes exaggeratedly sad, puppy dog eyes at her.

"Tyler," she says, exhaling heavily through her nose; Sam nods solemnly but despite herself, Caroline giggles. "And did you just use the word _beefcake_?"

Hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, he says idly, "I call it like I see it. And I left him alone with Dean, so you should probably go intervene before he makes Tyler cry."

"Oh _God_," she mumbles, tossing her pencil and notebook aside and scooting off her bed. When she gets to the front porch, Tyler visibly relaxes and Dean's wolfishly amused smirk fades (slightly). "You can go," she tells Dean, who rolls his eyes and says to Tyler, "Keep it brief, Romeo," as he goes inside. She scowls at his back before turning around to face Tyler.

"Hey," he says uncertainly, betraying his discomfort by shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I just wanted to see how you're holding up."

She sits down in one of the wicker chairs and gestures for him to do the same. "I'm okay," she says honestly, looking down at her hands. "Really, I am."

He looks like he doesn't believe her, his elbows resting on his knees and his serious face on. "We'll get Matt back, okay? We'll get him back and we're gonna stop this thing."

She half-smiles at him. "How do you know?"

Tyler grins back at her and it tugs at her heartstrings. He leans in as though about to reveal a big secret and whispers dramatically, "I read the back of the book. Spoiler alert: the good guys win." She laughs outright at that, and reaches over to take one of his hands in hers.

"I miss hanging out with you," she tells him sincerely. "It's weird not being your friend."

His bright smile dims a little and he says haltingly, "Care, I—" He pauses and seems to switch tracks. "I really am sorry about Homecoming. I just . . . you know, freaked out after the whole . . . _thing_ you went through with Jules. I was trying to make up for not protecting you, I guess, and I went totally overboard."

She bites her lip and nods slowly. "I get it. But . . ."

"But we're still broken up," he finishes for her and she lowers her eyes, offering hesitantly, "Maybe someday, we can try again." His face is resigned and he stands to leave when she stands as well and tugs back on his hand. "You can stay if you want. Castiel should be coming back soon and he might have found out who zapped Matt."

Tyler considers her before shaking his head. "Nah, I need to go home and tell my mom what's going on. Maybe another time." She bobs her head in a nod because she totally gets not wanting to be around an ex after a fresh breakup (or, you know, not ever again—hello, she dated _Damon_). But before he steps off her front porch, Tyler surprises by pressing a sweet, chaste kiss on her lips and saying, "I'm holding you to that someday thing."

She smiles a little to herself and says, "Deal," as he bounds off the front steps and towards his car.

"Don't think I didn't see that," Dean calls from the kitchen when she walks back inside.

"Don't think you're not super creepy," she replies without missing a beat.

... ... ...

Elena and Caroline sit cross-legged on Bonnie's bed, watching with interest as she murmurs to a flame in Latin; it slowly spreads, but as soon as it becomes the size of a baseball, Bonnie's nose starts to bleed profusely and she swears angrily.

"We have to figure something else out," Elena says firmly and Caroline nods in agreement. Bonnie shakes her head and wipes irritably at her nose.

"There _is_ nothing else," she insists, ignoring the concerned look that passes between Elena and Caroline and closing her eyes to try again.

"Okay, but at least take a break," Caroline barters hopefully, pulling the Bennett family Bible onto her lap and flipping gingerly to the final book.

"Have you heard from Castiel?" Elena asks, reaching for a bag of chips and offering some to both Bonnie and Caroline. Caroline accepts with gusto but Bonnie just shakes her head again, frowning down at the box of matches resting on her lap.

"Come on, Bon," Caroline coaxes, and Elena waves the bag enticingly in front of Bonnie. "If you're gonna do this to yourself, you have to keep your strength up."

Bonnie rolls her eyes and finally caves; Elena and Caroline exchange a look of triumph.

"Any word from Castiel?" Bonnie asks through a mouthful of chips and Caroline's face falls.

"None," she says quietly, forehead creasing. "Dean says he does this sometimes, but I keep thinking maybe something's wrong. Like maybe he got caught and he's in, like, some angel jail."

"Do you think angels have jail?" Elena asks curiously and Caroline scowls because that's so not the point. "Who knows? It's just freaking me out."

"You don't think that Anna girl—" Bonnie stops herself when she sees the anxious look that crosses Caroline's face.

"Believe me," she says darkly, "I've thought about it. She hasn't been around either."

The mechanic beeping of Elena's cell phone interrupts them; "Hey, Jer," she says, sliding off of Bonnie's bed and disappearing out into the hallway.

"How are things going with the Horsemen?" Bonnie asks, scooting over so that she's next to Caroline, peering down at the Bible.

Caroline shrugs. "I haven't heard anything. The Originals are supposed to be pulling strings left and right, and they did find a Killing Sword, so maybe they'll be better allies than we thought."

Bonnie grimaces, leaning back so that her weight rests on the palms of her hands. "Here's hoping."

"Guys," Elena says from the doorway, her phone sliding from her ear. "Jeremy says Matt quit from the Grill today."

"What?" Bonnie demands and Caroline's eyes fall shut.

"Whoever is in him has bigger fish to fry," she says forlornly. "This is bad, y'all. They're putting everything in to place."

"Keep trying Castiel," Bonnie says firmly, turning back to her flame-ball; and Caroline sighs because literally every other thought in her head is a quick shout-out to Cas that any time he feels like enlightening them, it would be nice. They're kind of treading water and she's sick of it.

Her phone dings once, indicating the arrival of a text and Sam's name appears next to the tiny envelope icon.

_Get home now._

... ... ...

"What?" she demands fearfully, whirling into her living room. "What's going on? Did something—" Caroline stops short.

"It's about your friend," Castiel tells her grimly and her heart stops as she sinks bonelessly into a nearby chair. Anna is nowhere to be seen.

"Who is it?" she asks uneasily and before she can stop herself, questions start pouring out of her mouth. "Who's in him? How do we get him back? Where have you been? What's—"

"Care," Dean says quietly, and her heart plummets to the floor at how soothing his tone is.

"Who is it?" she repeats, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Castiel sighs and says, "It's Michael. Michael is in your friend."

And everything stops—her breathing, her blood, even the ticking of the clock.

Her eerie stillness, combined with her silence, prompts Sam into coming to squat by her chair. "Care," he says gently, one hand brushing a layered piece of hair out of her face. "We'll fix it. We always do."

She surprises herself by responding—she can barely find her voice, much less put a clear, cognitive sentence together; yet somehow, salutatorian Caroline has taken over and looks right at Dean. "He took Matt to force you to say yes, didn't he."

Dean won't meet her eyes. "Yes," Castiel says bluntly and when Sam shoots him a dirty look, he shifts uncomfortably. "But we'll . . . we'll fix him," he adds, entirely unconvincingly.

Her mind is jumping miles ahead of this conversation. "We can't tell anyone. Not Elena, not Bonnie—no one. They'll—they won't understand and they'll want you to give in and I—we can't—" She swallows the tumble of words and the look Castiel gives her is so sympathetic, it is nearly her undoing.

"Okay," Sam agrees, eyes still roaming her face as though she'll shatter at any moment. "We won't tell anyone."

"Until we have to," Dean clarifies, and this time he's on the receiving end of Sam's bitch-face. "What? They can't just _not know_. Archangels are different—more powerful, tougher, and downright meaner. What if one of your friends got zapped?"

"But they won't get it!" Caroline cries passionately, jumping to her feet. "I—I love Matt, I do; but I love _you_ more and they won't understand, Dean!"

"I'm not gonna let an eighteen year old kid bite the bullet for me, and I can fight him. I know I can," Dean tells her with an air of finality. When her expression crumbles, his eyes soften and he says gently, "We'll look for a way to get Michael out of Matt, but you need to understand Caroline—Matt wasn't built to house an archangel. It'll take a pretty bad toll on him and it won't take long for that to start showing. We've got about three weeks—a month if Matt's tough—to come up with a plan, but after that . . ." he shrugs, a little helplessly. "After that, it's either I say yes or Matt dies a slow, deteriorating death. And it won't be pretty."

Caroline turns to Castiel in desperation. "Do you know of anything that can help? _Anything?_"

Castiel shakes his head despondently, looking genuinely distressed at the scene playing out in front of him. "Angelic possession is nothing like demonic, and most of the rules don't apply to archangel possession—most notably, Angel Killing Swords don't work on archangels. Possessing your friend—or any vessel that is not meant for him—only hurts the vessel. When his body wears out, Michael will move on, until Dean . . ." he trails off.

"So what _can_ kill an archangel? " Sam demands. "And why didn't you mention this before, Cas?"

Castiel sighs and looks down at the floor, avoiding the latter part of the question. "Very few things can kill an archangel, and even fewer can kill Michael. The Banishing Sigil does not affect him and the fire from Holy Oil will only banish him instead of killing him."

The only sound that echoes through the living room is the sound of their collective breathing.

"If nothing can kill him," Sam says slowly, "then it doesn't matter if you can fight his control, Dean. You won't be able to die and he'll win out eventually because you can't fight forever."

"There are rumors of weapons that may be useful," Castiel offers tentatively, still not looking at any of them. "Anna is investigating them. But I would advise against getting your hopes up."

"We're not going to win," Caroline says dully. "There's no way. This—this is a losing battle and we're just going to get ourselves killed."

"Don't say that," Sam scolds her, but his heart clearly isn't in it and she just shakes her head.

"Look," Dean says resignedly, "just go ahead and tell your friends what's going on. The more people we have looking for answers, the better." Seeing the look on Caroline's face, he adds quickly, "I'm not gonna go _looking_ for Michael, Care, so don't look at me like that."

Sam nudges her comfortingly. "We'll figure it out. Promise."

She manages a watery smile, but she doesn't believe him at all.

... ... ...

Caroline muscles Dean into taking her shooting instead of going to school and she thinks he must be more distraught by the possibility of becoming Michael's personal pawn than he's been letting on because he only makes one griping comment about her mounting absences. She tries not to read too much into it.

After she nails her third beer can smack in the middle between the _Bud_ and _Light_, Dean notes wirily, "Something on your mind?"

She shakes her head silently and despite not looking at all convinced, Dean puts another can on top of the fallen tree trunk he's sitting on. Hesitating for just a moment, she hoists the shotgun up and takes aim. The can flies off of the tree trunk and Dean says with false brightness (at least, she thinks it's false), "You must've had a really good teacher!" He flashes her a smug grin. "Who was that, again?"

Ignoring the rhetorical question, she lets the gun dangle at her side and says, "I'm not telling them about Michael. You might be perfectly fine signing your own death warrant, but I want no part of it. I'm not helping you commit suicide by angel."

Dean's head falls back in exasperation and he says frustratedly, "Cas and Anna are looking for a way around it, Care."

"There is no way around it," she reminds him bitterly. "Everything that works on regular angels doesn't work on archangels and everything that works on archangels doesn't work on _Michael_."

He shrugs and says lightly, "I can't help it that I attracted the prettiest girl at the dance."

Frustration wells up inside of her and she cries, "This isn't a joke, Dean! This—if you do this, you'll _die._ Period, the end, case closed. Y-you won't come back from this one, Dean, and even if we win, which we _won't_, Sam and I lose regardless."

Dean sighs and he walks over to her, both hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "I know," he says quietly. "It's all I think about, Care, and I don't want it any more than you do. But the only thing I want to do more than tell Michael exactly where he can shove it is to keep you and Sammy safe."

Caroline snorts. "Because you think you can fight off the strongest creature in creation using just your willpower? Dean, I love you and I've seen you do amazing things, but you're still only human. And if you did manage to take over, you'd, what, fall on your sword like a hero? Except there is no sword!" She bites her lip before continuing. "If Matt isn't supposed to be able to hold Michael, doesn't that make him weak? Easier to take out? Maybe something that wouldn't work on Michael at full strength could work with M—while he's down for the count."

Dean eyes her sharply. "Don't talk about your friend like that."

"What, you'd rather me talk like that about _you_?" She shakes her head furiously at him, hair flying around her face. "Matt's my friend, but you're my _family_. If it were me Michael wanted instead of you, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"Yeah, well all of this happens to be completely moot because we don't even know what can kill Michael, if anything can," Dean points out, glossing over her point and turning back to the fallen tree to pick up a crumpled can. "You're forgetting to pull your elbows in."

"Stop changing the subject."

"Fine," he says easily. "I'm telling everyone tonight."

Her shot goes wide left.

... ... ...

Dean makes a deal with her—if she tells Elena and Bonnie as soon as school lets out then she doesn't have to be there when the Salvatores find out. Caroline particularly doesn't want to be present when Damon is made aware of what's going on. He may have no lost love for Matt, but he has even less so for her and she can barely stomach his reaction that exists only in her imagination. There's no way she wants to see the real thing.

She doesn't cry when she tells her best friends and she's proud of herself for it. She's cried far too much for her taste in the past few weeks (months) and she decides it's way past time she channeled her inner Buffy.

"We're don't negotiate with terrorists," Elena says firmly, and when Bonnie nods emphatically, Caroline manages a weak smile.

"I'm not sure Dean—or Damon—will agree," she tells them and Elena shakes her head.

"If we were talking about Stefan, Damon would have no problem telling all of us to go to hell," she says practically. "He has no right to demand from other people what he would never do himself."

"Have you _met_ Damon?" Bonnie wants to know, one eyebrow arching and even though all three of them know that that's slightly unfair, none of them protest her point.

"Look," Elena says, taking both of Caroline's hands in hers and looking firmly into her eyes, "We'll find a way around it. There's always a loophole, right?"

"It's practically a law of nature," Bonnie adds. "Everything has a fail-safe."

"I'll take care of Damon and Stefan," Elena promises her and for the first time in hours, Caroline finally feels like she's getting enough air.

It doesn't last very long.

Ten minutes after leaving Elena's, her headlights hit something dark and unmoving in the middle of the road, and as she eases down on her brakes, she realizes with a jolt that there's a _person_ lying there.

"Hey! Are you okay?" she calls out anxiously, hopping out of her car without a second thought (because, hello, vampire) and jogging up to the—

Damon pins her to the hood of her car, his hands wrapping tightly around her arms. "So when were you planning on sharing, Barbie? Didn't you go to summer camp? _Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you tell everyone_."

She scoffs at him and tries to shove him off of her but he has a century and a half on her and doesn't budge. "Considering I just found out—"

He lets go of her with a noise of disgust. "Let me drop some knowledge on you, Caroline. If sacrificing your brother means saving the world, _you do it._ For God's sake, he's even willing!"

"Right, because you and Stefan totally have that kind of relationship," she retorts sarcastically, glancing down bitterly at the finger-shaped bruises forming on her arms.

"Stefan's the hero, not me," he snaps and before he can continue, she bites off, "Believe me, we're all well aware of that."

His eyes flash at her. "If he thinks he can fight Michael off—"

"That's the _point_, Damon!" she cries exasperatedly. "He can't!"

"Yeah, well, it's our best shot," he says, turning away from her. "If he can, and he—"

"And he _what_? Kills himself in the thirty second window he'll have?"

"If that's what it takes," Damon says coldly and absolute loathing seethes through her veins.

"Okay, so with what?" she challenges, crossing her arms and glaring at his back. "In case you forgot, Michael kind of can't be killed. He'll just _heal_ Dean and laugh in all of our faces before wiping us off the map." She feels a surge of triumph when Damon doesn't have an answer to that at the ready. _Point to Caroline._ "The best thing to do is wait, Damon. We have to find a weapon before we even consider anything else."

She doesn't tell him that there won't actually be any considering of other options.

... ... ...

Caroline shows up at the Mikaelson mansion mainly because she has nowhere else to go, really. Sam and Dean would have no problem killing Damon on sight, and as much as she wouldn't mind that, it would destroy Stefan and—if she's honest with herself—Elena too. Anyway, she totally owes him, even if she tries not to think about it. He's saved her life twice now: first, from Klaus's fiery death circle and then from Tyler, and Caroline fancies herself at least as good as the Lannisters—she always pays her debts. And while she has no doubt Bonnie and Elena would gladly let her cry on their shoulders, she doesn't want to unload on them any more than she already has.

Plus, she's kind of holding out hope that Klaus might be in her corner on this. God knows she needs the support and more so than anyone, she thinks he should be completely with her on this. Even if she's discounting whatever he feels for her, he's the one who kept his family basically dead for centuries to keep them safe. Yeah, she's fairly certain he'll get where she's coming from.

She doesn't even have to knock; the door is already swinging open as she approaches.

"You look bloody awful," Rebekah tells her helpfully, looking immaculate—albeit casual—herself.

Caroline ignores the jab completely. "Is Klaus here?"

Rebekah gives her a cool once-over and says idly, "You know, I have no idea what he sees in you. Nothing about you is particularly special." Before Caroline can lunge for her throat (or burst into tears, because she's been forcing them back all night despite her best Buffy imitation), Rebekah says, her voice bored and utterly unhurried as she examines her manicure, "Nik, you have a visitor. A _common_ one."

Before Caroline can send a biting retort Rebekah's way, Klaus is shoulder-to-shoulder with his sister and Caroline says to Rebekah, a bit nastier than she means to, "Do you _mind_?"

Rebekah's eyes narrow and her mouth is open to say something that will probably make Caroline want to pull the other girl's hair out; but Klaus gives Rebekah a look that Caroline has seen on Dean's face a million times. "Fine," she growls, sending a final glare in Caroline's direction for good measure before storming away.

When Klaus turns to her with raised eyebrows, she stalls. "Can we not do this in your front hallway?"

His eyebrows climb even higher and he's wearing the same amused expression he always seems to have with her. It's oddly comforting in its continuity. "Of course," he says easily, fingers wrapping around her wrist and leading her to his art room—the room with no door and the Degas on the wall. He turns to her expectantly, leaning against a table and not saying anything.

"Something's happened," she begins hesitantly, and then it occurs to her that this maybe wasn't her best idea ever, despite how she built it up in her head. There's no way whatever passing crush Klaus has on her will win out over stopping the _freaking Apocalypse_, and the best-case scenario is he tries to kill Matt, which is definitely not an okay solution. _You're an absolute idiot, Caroline._

So she starts over. "If—if I tell you something, do you _promise_—on like, your honor or whatever, that you won't," she holds up one finger, "(a) react in any way or," she holds up a second, "(b) tell anyone? And when I say in any way, I mean you can't do _anything_. Nothing. At all."

He doesn't even blink. "I promise," he says lightly, crossing his arms and regarding her curiously. "What's happened?" His eyes flicker down to the only just now fading marks on her arms. "Who did that to you?"

But still she hedges because this is just too important and she has to make him understand that. "Klaus, I'm not kidding. You—no ripping out anyone's heart, no threatening anyone, _nothing_."

"I'm well aware of the meaning of 'nothing,'" he tells her and he seems to be holding back a laugh. That won't last long, she thinks unhappily.

"It's Matt," she says and she's right because everything about him changes: the slight smile disappears, his arms and jaw tense and he looks decidedly more Klaus-like. She barrels on, forcing herself to ignore the sudden crackle in the air.

She avoids his eyes as the words tumble out unbidden. "Michael—an archangel is possessing Matt and it'll kill him because archangels have to possess specific people and for Michael that means _Dean_ but if he possess Dean, then that means Dean has to die to stop the Apocalypse but Dean thinks he can fight the possession once Michael's got him. But—but it doesn't even matter because there's nothing that can kill Michael even if Dean managed to take over." She thinks vaguely that it's a good thing she doesn't need to breathe anymore because she has hardly paused in her diatribe. She risks a glance over at him and is both comforted and surprised at the totally un-Klaus like softness of his face.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asks quietly, his thousand-yard stare boring holes into her. She swallows hard before confessing, a hint of shame creeping into her voice, "I just—I thought you would be on my side with this." She turns wide, pleading eyes on him, not noticing how his hands have clenched into fists under his crossed arms. "I mean you—you kept your family in boxes for _centuries_ to keep them safe! You of all people should understand—"

"The Apocalypse has to be stopped, Caroline," he says, no longer looking at her and her blood flames white-hot before turning cold. _Stupid_, she berates herself. How could she have forgotten that Klaus is ultimately a selfish creature—the _Original_ selfish creature, perhaps even more so than Katherine? Of course whatever infatuation he has with her isn't enough to overcome a millennium of self-preservation. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

"Right," she says flatly, taking a step back; and now she's the one not looking at him. "So everyone else is allowed to protect their family, but I have to sacrifice mine. Got it." She turns to leave but he takes her arm and if she couldn't fight off Damon, then there's no point in trying to escape Klaus.

"I'll send some hybrids to look for weapons," he says, his hand just tight enough to keep her from walking out. "And Elijah and Finn are both searching for your rings." She doesn't answer and he says her name quietly, "Caroline . . ."

"Screw you," she snaps frostily, not even bothering to turn her head towards his. "Don't do me any favors."

He lets her go.

It takes her twenty minutes longer than usual to drive home because she has to keep pulling over, convinced that she's seconds away from throwing up. When she does finally walk through her front door, Dean and Sam are in a deep conversation with Castiel and Anna, who must have turned up after Caroline had left. She gives them all a weak smile before disappearing into the kitchen and pulling Klaus's sketch off of the refrigerator. She roots around determinedly in her mother's junk drawer for a matchbook.

Caroline burns the stupid sketch and dumps the ashes down the garbage disposal.

... ... ...

"I haven't read this one," Sam tells her, handing her a yellowing leather-bound book. "See if you can find anything."

After five minutes of dejectedly flipping through it, she realizes that it's written completely in Latin and that she's been staring at something that might as well be in gibberish for all she can understand it. "I can't read this," she says dejectedly, giving back to him and holding her hand out for another. He glances at it and chuckles a little, saying, "Trade me."

Bonnie leans back in her seat, hand rubbing her forehead. "This sucks," she announces and she gets a round of sympathetic looks. "I can't make it bigger than a volleyball."

"The witches might help," Elena offers, scribbling down notes from her own decrepit book. "Since it'll be to save innocent people."

"Maybe," Bonnie says doubtfully and she jumps when Castiel says from behind her chair, "It is possible that I could help." He motions to the tiny flame levitating over the table. "You seem to be having difficulties with the size."

Caroline sees at least seven sarcastic remarks about _size_ and _difficulties_ forming on the tip of Dean's tongue so she intervenes before Cas finds out way too much about the type of conversations that take place in the guys' locker room. "That's a good idea," she says quickly, shooting Dean a look that he returns with a half-pout, half-smirk. "We need all the help we can get."

The doorbell rings and Caroline gives Dean a last, pointed look before she scrapes her chair backwards to answer it.

"Afternoon," Kol says brightly. "Elijah has something for you."

She frowns at him. "Could he not just bring it here?"

Kol shrugs and offers her his arm. "Apparently he wants to talk to you."

Caroline rolls her eyes at him and calls into the house, "Be right back!"

... ... ...

"You're a little liar," she accuses crossly, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him; Kol looks entirely unruffled. She refuses to look at Klaus.

"I do what I must," he says with a cheeky grin and she grumbles spitefully under her breath, "You do what you're _told_."

"When it suits me," he agrees, and Klaus says impatiently, "Go away, Kol." Kol gives her a small, mocking bow before he swaggers off, whistling lowly and Caroline doesn't know if she's amused or terrified by how cavalier he is. It's probably some combination of the two, because nothing is ever straightforward with the Originals.

"I have something for you," Klaus tells her and she openly rolls her eyes, deliberately paying more attention to his cold fireplace than to him.

"Unless it's an apology followed by a change of heart, I'm not interested."

He's quiet, and she takes a moment to wallow in the unique mix of disappointment and frustration that she never fails to feel with him.

She forgets that sometimes he surprises her.

"Fair play," he concedes quietly and for a moment, she doesn't move a muscle, sure that she heard incorrectly.

"Seriously?" She turns around suspiciously because Klaus is so not known for his one-eighties.

He studies her disbelieving face before responding, "My reaction yesterday was the definition of hypocritical and I'm sorry."

Okay, what? She blinks at him as though she's never actually seen him before. "Holy crap, it really is the end of the world," she breathes in astonishment, and she's only half-joking.

Klaus looks almost—_uncertain_, if she didn't know better and he holds something out to her. It glints in the sunlight pouring in from the windows and she takes it cautiously.

"Elijah found it buried in the ruins of a Mesopotamian temple," he tells her and she stares down at the silver ring in her hand, chills running down her back. "Most likely Babylonian, from the markings."

"Which one does it belong to?" she whispers, careful not to let the ring slip down onto her finger. Her eyes are wide as she stares at it, entranced.

"There was no indication."

The ring lays flat in the palm of her hand and it seems to almost hum with power. She shakes herself out of her daze and makes to hand it back to him. "I—you have to hold it. It's too . . . I don't know. Too something. Where's Elijah now?"

It happens within the span of a mere millisecond, but his face darkens slightly. "Somewhere around here. Resting, I'm sure. He and Finn only came back this morning."

Caroline tears her eyes away from the ring in his hand and pulls out her phone to call Sam because this is all way over her head.

"Hey," she says when he answers, sounding irritated. "Get everyone to the Salvatore house. Something's happened."

…

Caroline can practically see the tension in the room as it crackles. Dean growls something about seeking out danger and being an idiot at her, while simultaneously trying to win an intense staring contest with Klaus, who is flanked by Elijah and Finn. Elena is casting nervous glances between the Salvatores and Klaus, while Bonnie just glares at all of them.

"Give it to me," Caroline says, holding her hand out to Klaus, who smirks at a scowling Dean as he drops the ring in her hand. She gives it to Sam. "Whose is that?"

Sam frowns down at it, turning it over inside his fingertips. "I don't know for sure, but if I had to make an educated guess . . ." He studies it intently for a few seconds. "I'd say Death."

Elena jumps, face paling. "Why—why would you say Death? Why Death, Sam?" Damon eyes her warily and mumbles, "Calm down, antsy."

Sam sends her a soothing glance. "The white stone doesn't really bring to mind War, Famine or Pestilence. But it is still just a guess, Elena."

"I would say it's a fairly good one," Elijah says quietly from the other side of the room and Caroline narrows her eyes at Klaus. "No indication, huh?" she says to him lowly and he offers her a shrug in response.

"It was buried in a tomb," Finn informs them tonelessly and Caroline does a small double take; she's pretty sure she's never heard him speak before.

"Could Castiel confirm if it's Death's ring?" Stefan asks warily from his spot on the wall and Sam shakes his head doubtfully.

"I don't think he would have any idea. I don't think he's ever seen the Horsemen," he says, and he turns towards Bonnie. "We have to summon him—we have to summon Death."

She stares at him for a moment before his words sink in. "You mean _I_ have to summon him."

"It's been the plan all along," Dean confirms cautiously and Bonnie's fingers dig into the arms of the chair she's sitting in.

"Great," she mutters and Caroline jumps in comfortingly, "We'll all be there with you, Bon. You're not doing this in a vacuum." Elena nods shakily in tentative agreement.

"Speak for yourself, Barbie," Damon says dismissively and all three girls glare at him.

"Remember what I said about _weapons_?" Caroline grits through her teeth and Damon glowers at her. "Besides, we need at least one Horseman on our side, and I'd say Death isn't too shabby a catch."

"Ever the optimist," he retorts and they glare at each other until Elijah clears his throat.

"If that's all . . ." he says, raising a languid eyebrow and Sam looks up from his intense observations of the ring.

"Yeah," he says agreeably, "Thanks. This . . . this could be a game-changer, so thank you." Elijah looks slightly taken aback at the acknowledgement while Finn simply nods gravely before they both vanish soundlessly. Elena puts an arm around Bonnie's shoulder as she takes in deep, steadying breaths.

"You should leave too," Stefan says coolly to Klaus, who turns mock hurt eyes on him.

"Now, Stefan. I'm just as invested in the continued existence of the world as anyone else."

Caroline grabs Klaus by the arm and drags him outside before things turn nasty—and if she knows Dean, his expression says Klaus is wearing on his last nerve. "You should go."

The remnants of angry bravado linger in his face and he says derisively, "Fine. You're welcome for all my help."

She snorts. "You didn't do anything, Elijah and Finn did. And you sound like a five-year-old, by the way."

Thunder crosses his face, but it disappears as soon as it had arrived. "Caroline."

"These mood swings have got to stop," she informs him bluntly, eyes narrowing. "You want to be a temperamental, tortured artist, that's fine. Whatever. But it's giving me whiplash, so dial it down a notch."

"You know," Klaus says thoughtfully, dark blue eyes raking over her and causing her to suppress a (not totally for the right reasons) shiver. "You could be nicer to me."

"Seriously?" she demands incredulously, hands going to her hips. "_You_ could have not killed a bunch of people I care about. If we're keeping score here, you're definitely losing, buddy."

He takes a step towards her, but there's no threat to it so she stands her ground. One hand comes up and he takes a curl of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. "It would appear that I am most definitely losing," he agrees, eyes hot on her face, and she forces herself not to swallow.

Her voice is barely audible and when did the air go from being tense and argumentative to snapping with electricity? "You—my brothers are inside."

"Hmm," he hums, and he's so close to her she feels the vibrations reverberating through his chest. "Let me know what Death is like, then."

In the time that it takes her to inhale a ragged breath, he's gone.

... ... ...

"What if he's pissed?" Bonnie asks anxiously, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on her knee.

"Then he'll be pissed at all of us," Sam reassures her, flipping through a book. "You're not alone, Bonnie." Caroline takes her hand and squeezes for emphasis.

"S-shouldn't Castiel be here?" Bonnie presses on, and Dean says, "He's—"

"I'm here," Castiel announces and Dean scowls. "You've got to stop doing that, man."

Castiel blinks at him in confusion but doesn't ask for elaboration. "Anna and I will explain the situation to Death. If…if he does not take it well, we will get you out."

"So comforting," Elena whispers to Caroline and she nods in shaky agreement.

Bonnie gulps and takes a deep breath before releasing Caroline's hand and clenching her own into fists. "Here goes nothing," she says resolutely and Caroline braces herself.

... ... ...

**tbc.**

* * *

**A/N: **I really like cliffhangers, what can I say? Please review!


	7. six

**I disclaim. **Title is from Explosions in the Sky.

**A/N:** Completely AU/AH. As per usual, my sincere thanks to reviewers! If everyone who alerts or favorites (or just reads and enjoys it) would _please _review, I would love it so much. I really do love hearing what y'all think and when I'm stuck on something, I go back and reread what everyone has said. So please, please, drop me a line. It's the ultimate form of encouragement!

Also I literally stared at the first 900 words of this chapter for _days_ because even though I have everything sketched out (yes, even the end) I couldn't figure out how to move everything forward. Part of the reason (and this is On A Personal Note, so feel free to skip ahead to the chapter) for this is because I just moved back home from the UK and I miss England _so much_ (and all the pre-Olympic coverage is so not helping). Anyway, I appreciate the patience, is what I'm getting at.

— All this to say: I really hope you enjoy! (And please review!) **—**

**(Quick Note:** Really gross imagery within. Ye be warned.**)**

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**6. **

"_Vocare mortem_," Bonnie chants and Caroline knows enough about Latin roots from SAT prep to remember that _mortem_ means death—although she's pretty sure it's supposed to refer to the actual act of dying, not, like, _Death_-death. "_Vocare mortem nex interitus_." Caroline restrains a shiver.

The sky outside of the boarding house has turned grey, clouds rolling over the sun, and Dean says lowly to Caroline, "Maybe you should go home." She rolls her eyes and doesn't answer because seriously, what more damage can Death do to her? What can _any_ of the Horsemen do to her, really? No, she's staying, because she has no qualms about putting herself in front of the people she cares about, especially when the risks are exponentially lower for her. After her non-response, Dean doesn't say anything else about her leaving.

Bonnie finishes her chanting with a whisper and she opens her eyes expectantly. When nothing happens, Damon says blithely, "Maybe he bitch-buttoned us." He jerks his head towards Castiel. "Or maybe he gave you the number for the Rejection Hotline."

No one dignifies his flippant attitude with a response—instead, they all sit silently for a few more moments until Dean finally quips, "So...anti-climati, much?" He stands and Sam snorts disbelievingly, "Understatement."

"It should have worked," Bonnie says worriedly. "It—everything was right!" She turns wild eyes to Castiel. "What happened?"

Caroline's stomach is filled with something that feels as heavy as lead. "I don't know," Castiel says quietly. "But I imagine we will find out soon."

… … …

The mother of all storms hits Mystic Falls, and if the good folks at Channel 7 weather are to be believed, it isn't leaving until it's dumped oceans of rain on them. Flash flood alerts are going up all over the state and rain patters heavily against the windows.

"That's the third time in an hour," Caroline comments as the living room plunges into darkness despite the fact that it's only noon. The front yard is swimming in water from the constant pounding of rain. Sam turns on the flashlight sitting next to his elbow, eyes intent on the book in front of him and Dean holds a lit candle out to her.

"Pretend you're Abe Lincoln," he suggests. At her blank look, he shakes his head. "Reading by candlelight? I _knew_ skipping school would catch up to you, Care."

"For your information, I can recite the Gettysburg Address," she informs him coolly, snatching the candle out of his hand. The flame wobbles.

"Something that will definitely be useful later in life," he says with sarcastic sureness, nodding firmly and she scowls at him as she picks up the lighter from the coffee table. "Yell if Death pops in," she grumbles as she heads to her room. "Or, you know, don't."

She's flicking the lighter over the wick of a giant mulberry-scented Yankee Candle when her phone lights up: _Huffington Post News Alert: Chicago's 2.7 million population urged to evacuate city as major storm brews._ Caroline stares at it thoughtfully before sliding her finger across the unlock key.

As her eyes skim across the article, she shouts, her voice cracking in panic, "_Dean_!" and he comes running down the hallway, skidding to a halt in front of her door. "What?" he demands frantically, hands roaming down her sides in search of an injury, Sam following not three steps behind him; and she waves her phone in their faces, spluttering wordlessly. Dean snatches it from her, eyes scanning the bright screen and he scowls before he hands it back to her.

"Way to overreact," he grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets and Sam raises a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Did you read it?" she demands of Dean, shoving the phone in Sam's hand. "I don't think we summoned Death, Dean—I think we _released_ him!"

"That makes zero sense," he says reasonably as Sam frowns thoughtfully. "People die every day, Caroline."

She shakes her head and says frustratedly, "Yeah I get that, but this is 3 million people, Dean! Can Reapers even handle something that big by themselves?"

"We still have his ring, though," Sam points out incredulously. "Doesn't he kind of need that?"

"No," Castiel says from behind Caroline; she jumps in surprise and then groans, "What did I say about the whole Apparating thing, Cas? Jeez."

He ignores her and says, looking entirely world-weary, "The spell summoned Death, but he is under no obligation to respond to the summons—to us, that is."

"This is becoming like a thing with you," Dean remarks, looking annoyed. "Not telling us important things that would be just a _tad_ helpful to know beforehand."

Castiel shoots him a disgruntled look. "I didn't know. Rest assured, if I had, we would not be in this precarious situation."

"I'm right, aren't I," Caroline says pessimistically. "He's going for Chicago, for like, a big splashy opening act or something." Castiel nods slowly. "It would appear that way."

Dean crosses his arms. "So, what, Death's just gonna wipe out the entire population of Chicago? Not very subtle. _At all._"

Caroline's mind is racing a mile a minute. "We have to go to Chicago—we have to tell him what's going on because he's doing exactly what the angels want!"

"Is there any chance that Death is on the other side?" Sam posits quietly, hand cupping his chin.

"No," Castiel insists stubbornly. "Death is a Horseman, and they are only to be used in the Lord's Apocalypse."

"But you don't _know_ if Death thinks that," Dean grouses in frustration, nearly stamping his foot. "_Shit_, Cas." He points at Sam and says, "Pack a bag, we're going to Chi-town."

Caroline catches his arm and says pleadingly, "Let me come with you." Dean gives an indelicate snort and says, "Keep dreaming, sister," and she turns to Sam imploringly. "I can help!" she insists and Sam gives her a fond, placating smile.

"You're helping by staying here," he tells her gently, offering her phone back to her. "Keep an eye on Michael, but don't get too close to him, okay?" She rolls her eyes and says pointedly, "Is Cas supposed to _baby-sit_ me again?" Because that had gone so spectacularly well—her mind flashes back to Klaus pressing her forcefully into the stove, eyes flaming and she has to stop herself from flushing.

"I'm going with you," Castiel says firmly to Sam and Caroline's mouth drops open in protest, her eyes flashing to Sam's accusingly. Sam shrugs and he follows Dean down the hall as Castiel takes Caroline's forearm in one hand, pulling her around to look at him.

"Listen to me, Caroline," he says urgently, eyes searching hers. "You must be vigilant in keeping watch for the other Horsemen. Now that Death has been released, the Host's own search for the other three will be even more vigorous."

"Great," she mutters darkly. "So not only do I get to hold down the fort, I have to keep both eyes open for what, Pestilence_?_ Like, as in freaking _spiders?_" She shudders. "I don't handle spiders well, Cas."

"Pestilence is the forbearer of disease, Caroline, not arachnids," Castiel says bemusedly, the spot between his eyebrows wrinkling. "And you must also watch for the other Horsemen—Famine and War."

"I think War's already here," she grumbles and Castiel shakes his head. "No," he says warningly. "I believe you will know when War arrives."

Well, if that doesn't send a chill up her spine.

… … … …

Dean, Sam, and Castiel leave before the power comes back on and Caroline is vaguely creeped out by the eerie stillness that has settled throughout the entire house. The way the flickering candles send shadows dancing across the walls doesn't exactly help, either, and every urban legend she's ever heard at a sleepover runs through her mind. It doesn't even matter that Dean and Sam debunked most of them (creepy dolls and dripping faucets being two of her recurring nightmares at eleven years old)—they continue to run through her mind, and after all, Bloody Mary ended up being real.

"Grow up," she orders herself out loud, and thunder answers her, making her jump slightly, gripping her flashlight tightly. "You're a vampire, Caroline," she reminds herself in a whisper, even as every creak has her mind racing with images of serial killers and scenes from _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_—even though she could totally take Leatherface. She comforts herself with that.

She pulls one of the molding books Sam had left on the kitchen table towards her and flips to the pages that have a gas station receipt wedged between them to hold his place.

The sketches of the Horsemen are kind of terrifying—they catch her eyes and are nearly hypnotic in their nightmarish quality. Slowly, her fingers brush down the page, eyes wide as she reads. _Death will ride a pale horse and there will be a great Reckoning_. Capital 'R' Reckoning. Ominous.

Lightening cracks through the sky and Caroline jumps approximately ten feet in the air, hand flying to her chest. "That's it," she says to the empty kitchen, snapping the book shut and reaching for her car keys. "No more."

The drive to the Salvatore boarding house takes a little bit longer than usual because the rain is falling so thick and heavy that her windshield wipers can barely keep up. There are no lights on at the Salvatores' when she pulls up, though she isn't surprised—she had figured the power was out all over the town.

"Hello?" she calls out, pushing damp bangs out of her face and Stefan says from the small hallway next to the door, "Hey, Caroline. What're you doing here?"

She drops her bag to the floor and says, "I was home alone. Got freaked out."

"Did the burglars come for you while you were home alone again, Kevin?" Damon asks mockingly from behind Stefan, pushing past both of them on his way to the living room; she rolls her eyes at his back.

"Dean and Sam both went to Chicago to find Death," she tells Stefan, slipping out of her sopping wet raincoat and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. Before she can elaborate further Damon calls out, "Do ya think he's like some kind of massive Cubs fan? They _are_ cursed, after all…or maybe he really likes deep-dish pizza—but then, who _doesn't_?"

It's Stefan's turn to roll his eyes and he takes Caroline's elbow to lead her into the kitchen. "Castiel thinks the spell just released Death—or, if it really did summon him, the 'summoning' part is more like a suggestion."

"I wonder what Death could do to us," Stefan muses, leaning on the island in the center of the kitchen with his head tilted. At her confused look, he explains, "We kind of cheated him, right? Bet we're not his favorite species."

Caroline gapes at him. "Seriously? You think he could do something to us? Oh my God, of course he can do something to us—he's _Death_!" She takes a deep breath and glares at him. "Thanks for giving everyone—and by everyone, I mean me, specifically—something else to worry about."

He shrugs apologetically. "Just trying to plan ahead."

She sighs and rubs her forehead wearily. "How are we gonna do this, Stefan? We're up against something that's bigger than anything we've ever dreamed of—bigger than the _Originals_ for God's sake." She looks up at him, a little desperately. "How do we do this?"

Stefan looks down at his hands and says slowly, "We just…do it, Care. It's not like we have a choice. It's not just our lives at stake here, it's the entire world."

Their power flicks on and she holds her breath hopefully as it doesn't immediately turn back off. Stefan looks up at the light hanging from the ceiling. "You can still stay here, if you want."

She nods enthusiastically. "Yes please."

All of Sam's books lay spread out on the Salvatore coffee table, their flat screen turned on a muted CNN. "_This_ one is sexy as hell," Damon comments sarcastically, flipping his book around and showing them a sketch of a terrifying beast with multiple heads and long, sharp-looking claws. "When does he show up?"

"Hopefully never," Stefan says firmly at Caroline's horrified expression. "Unmute the TV, Damon."

Damon mumbles something about not being a manservant, but does as Stefan asks and the three of them stare at the screen as the pretty blonde reporter says in distress, "And in addition to the destruction threatening Chicago, there have been a breakout of what officials can only call—cannibalistic incidents in Philadelphia. Authorities say—"

Caroline's blood goes cold. "Cannibalistic incidents?" she repeats faintly.

"Maybe it's the zombie apocalypse," Damon offers glibly, but even he sounds slightly disturbed at the idea of someone eating another person's face off.

She shakes her head slowly. "No," she whispers, staring in disbelief at the twenty-odd mug shots lining the screen. "It's Famine."

Immediately, both Salvatores sit straight up and turn identical _what in the holy hell_ expressions towards her. "Care to elaborate on _The Walking Dead _there, Barbie?" Damon growls and Stefan says gently, "What are you talking about, Care?"

"Famine," she says again. "One of the Horsemen. Come on, it fits—cannibals, people eating people, _hunger_…"

Damon looks mildly impressed. "Look at you, Barbie, getting all smart on us."

She doesn't even have the energy to tell him to fuck off. "Philadelphia isn't all that far from here," she says weakly.

"What are you thinking?" Stefan wants to know, eyes narrowing. "Caroline, we are not running right into the middle—"

She waves him off and says passionately, "We have to! If there's any chance we can convince Famine—"

"Did you miss the part where humans are freaking _eating_ each other?" Damon demands incredulously, ice blue eyes sweeping over her face in disbelief. "Have you lost your damn _mind_? We're not going and looking for that!"

"If we can convince him that this isn't right—that it isn't, like, God or whatever, but some stupid rebellion, maybe—"

Damon cuts her off again and she aims a kick at his shins. "Try that again, Barbie, and just see what happens. And what makes you think that Famine even gives a flying shit that this doesn't have the Big Guy's seal of approval? Maybe he's just happy to go on a giant, disgusting binge."

"Come _on_," she pleads, turning to Stefan. "This is about the world, remember? We have to try everything!"

"Stefan, don't," Damon warns but Caroline knows victory when she sees it and Stefan only hesitates for a moment before he nods resignedly.

… … … …

"We need him," Caroline insists, even as she feels like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

"Nope," Damon disagrees, popping the 'p' sound exaggeratedly. "I refuse to be stranded in the middle of your sexual tension with Big Daddy Hybrid, Barbie." He throws a saucy wink at her in the rearview mirror. "Come on, it'll be like old times—we can even make out in the backseat of the car once we get to Philly."

"How about you go to hell?" she suggests tartly, crossing her arms stubbornly, and from the passenger seat, Stefan groans. "Just shut up, Damon. Caroline's right, we need something bigger to help us out here."

"I resent your implication that Klaus is _bigger_—" Damon starts to say and Caroline leans forward with sudden, vicious intent. "Look, Damon," she snaps, and even she's surprised when her voice goes scary-intense. "We need the backup, so just shut up and freaking _drive_." Stefan silently hands her his phone and she scrolls down to the Ks, ignoring Damon's grumbling under his breath.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Stefan?" Klaus drawls silkily into the phone and Caroline leans back into her seat.

"It's Caroline, actually," she says lowly, and there is a long pause on the other end of the line. "Something's happened and we're going to Philadelphia."

"We?"

"Me, Stefan, and Damon," she clarifies, giving the back of Damon's seat a kick for good measure; he shoots her a glare in the rearview. "We—look, it's a really complicated thing, but basically Famine is there and we're gonna try to talk him out of, you know, destroying the world." She pauses. "Okay, so I guess it's not that complicated."

"What are you asking, Caroline?"

She sighs and explains, "We need more manpower and you can't be killed."

There is silence on the other end of the line and Stefan says lowly from the front seat, "There's no way—"

"If you would like for me to meet you three in Pennsylvania," Klaus says amusedly, "then really, Caroline, all you have to do is ask."

She feels her face flush; it only gets warmer when Damon leers at her over his shoulder. She grits her teeth and says quietly—needlessly, since Damon and Stefan both have super hearing—under her breath, "Meet us in Philadelphia, Klaus."

He gives this low laugh that absolutely does not send a shiver down her spine and says genially, "See you soon, sweetheart."

As soon as she hands Stefan his phone back, Damon chortles smugly, "Barbie and Klaus, sittin' in a tree…"

"Shut up and drive," she snaps, sliding her earphones back in her ears and cranking up the Katy Perry to drown him—and her growing nerves—out.

… … … …

Philadelphia is completely abandoned. The streets are empty of even stray animals, and the eerie silence from the absence of traffic makes Caroline's skin break out in goosebumps. There's a chill that settles right between her shoulder blades and something that feels like the same terror she had experienced when Katherine—so much like Elena—had woken her up in her hospital bed and pushed a pillowcase over her nose sinks in next to it.

"This is bad," Damon mutters ominously, his eyebrow twitching and his knuckles turning bleach white against the steering wheel. "This is _so_ bad, Barbie. Easily your worst idea ever, and that includes sexing up a werewolf."

She can't find her voice to argue—not that she has an argument. Staring at the completely deserted streets of Philadelphia, she's not really sure why she insisted they come here.

"Any idea on where we should start looking?" Stefan wants to know and her hand curls around his headrest.

"We should find Klaus," she says softly before she leans back into her seat, wanting very much to slide down to the car floor and hide from the growing despair looping around in her stomach.

Damon parks the car under the covered parking lot of an empty gas station—empty like the entire rest of the city and she sits cross-legged on the hood of Damon's car, Stefan's cell phone dangling idly from her nervous fingertips. Her other hand slides to rest on her forehead as she wonders, _Where do hungry people go? _

It seems to take forever for Klaus's car to pull up and she looks up but doesn't hop off of Damon's car. "It appears that you have need of me," he remarks languidly, sunglasses that look incredibly expensive resting on his nose and Stefan scowls at him. She thinks vaguely that it's kind of a douche move to wear sunglasses when it's pouring rain.

"Let's just get this over with," Stefan says irritably and Damon's eyebrows arch as he smirks at Klaus. "We're taking your car," he says, tucking his keys in his back pocket. "Mine's a classic. Irreplaceable. You understand—can't just go shopping for a new one."

Caroline's hand falls down to her side and she straightens, staring at Damon. "Shopping," she repeats slowly, her eyes widening as something clicks in the back of her brain. Damon rolls his eyes at her.

"Come on, Barbie," he gripes. "Can't you think of anything else, just for a _second_?"

"Bite me," she snaps and before he can retort—and she knows exactly what he wants to say, because he's just that predictable sometimes—she continues, "Where do people go to eat and flirt and buy things they don't need? _The mall_." She fixes Damon with a triumphant look before turning to Stefan and Klaus. "Where's the biggest mall in Philly?"

… … … …

There are no cars in the expansive parking lots at King of Prussia Mall and Caroline stops in her tracks as they near the entrance. "It's silent," she whispers, heart falling down into her shoes.

"No it isn't," Klaus says flatly, and she can't see his expression from where she's standing. Damon pushes the trunk of his car open and heaves an axe over his shoulder before hopping back under Stefan's umbrella. "My money's on the one thousand year old hybrid, Barbie. Sorry." He claps his hand on Stefan's shoulder and the two of them walk a little ways ahead. Klaus dips his head low, mouth hovering over Caroline's ear as he avoids the edge of her blue and white polka dotted umbrella.

"I knew a Prussian king once," he says and the deep scratch of his voice makes the base of her spine tingle. "He was an utter fool."

Her hands clench into fists at her sides and she says archly, "I'm starting to think we might be too."

His hand rests on her lower back, propelling her forward even as she struggles to swallow around the lump in her throat.

"No, sweetheart," he says, thumb rolling over one of her vertebrae. "Doing what is best does not make us fools."

She sends him a skeptical look and says sarcastically, "Because you always do what's right."

He laughs and her skin prickles. "I don't recall saying that," he muses thoughtfully. "But I always do what I think is best." He gives her a grin that makes her shiver. "There is a difference, love."

She scoffs and is about to retort when she stops and looks up, realizing they've reached the entrance to the building.

"Any brilliant ideas, Barbie?" Damon asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and she shakes her head slowly. He sighs and pushes open the door.

Caroline nearly gags at the stench.

There are bodies everywhere. Some are already decomposing, squirming white maggots crawling over decaying skin and muscle. Young and old alike are strewn across the aisle ways, bodies in differing stages of rot.

But the worst is at the end, near the food court. And even though she's a vampire and she's seen things that would make other cheerleading captains never leave the safety of their covers, she almost runs.

The remaining living are all huddled there, food strewn around people who are covered in vomit and blood. Caroline nearly passes out, her hand grasping for Klaus of its own volition, her fingers threading through his. He responds in kind, and she bites down so hard on the inside of her cheek that she tastes her own blood.

"Any day now," Damon whispers next to her, hand tight around his axe and she swallows to clear her throat.

"F-Famine," she calls out, and she unwittingly steps closer to Klaus, the arm attached to her hand holding his disappearing behind him.

"Lovely, isn't it," a creaky voice says from the side, and all four of them shift. Caroline blinks, taking a half step backwards and Klaus's fingers clamp down slightly on hers. An ancient old man in a motorized wheelchair wheezes at them, oxygen tubes snaking out of his nostrils.

"It's America," he rasps, rheumy eyes sweeping over the scene. "All you can eat, all the time. Consume, consume, _consume_." The disgust in his thick voice grows as he continues. "A swarm of locusts in stretch pants." A teenage girl in denim cutoffs doesn't even make a sound as the middle-aged woman next to her—her mom?—starts to gnaw on the girl's arm, tearing flesh from bone with blunt, human teeth. Caroline has to look away, face dropping into Klaus's upper arm as she fights tears.

She doesn't look up as she says pleadingly, "This isn't—this apocalypse isn't—"

Famine coughs and the sound is full of phlegm. "Oh my dear. I'm well aware of the angels' little...rebellion against God." His watery eyes focus on Stefan. "And you, Stefan—my boy. _You_ are a child of my own heart." A small smile twitches over his yellowing teeth. "You are _always hungry_."

Damon snarls at him and growls warningly, "Back off, Locust-man." When Famine simply continues to gaze at Stefan expectantly, Damon steps in between their locked eyes, his back pointedly turned to Famine.

"Hey Stef," he says loudly, hands going up to Stefan's face. Stefan's eyes have glassed over, and his fangs are sliding out of his gums. "Look at me, brother." Damon forces Stefan's eyes to his. "Come on, Stefan," he says, voice quiet but still fierce and authoritative. "You've come so far, brother. Don't let this prick knock you off the wagon."

Famine chuckles and Caroline lets go of Klaus's hand to take several small steps towards him. "Please," she tries again, hands at her sides, palms up. "This isn't how it's supposed to go, right? There's protocols and—and rules you have to follow! What about when God comes back?"

He considers her and then his eyes flick past her shoulder. "Darling girl," he says, taking a moment to inhale a long drag of oxygen, rubbing his chest with withered, spotted hands. "That's the best part. There are no rules now. And God is never coming back." Famine tilts his head and Caroline realizes she no longer has his attention—he's focused completely on Klaus. "But _you_. Niklaus. _You_ are the most interesting of them all."

"Damn it, Stefan," Damon growls, and distracted, Caroline rushes to help Damon restrain him.

"Stefan, _stop_," she begs, and it takes all her strength to keep her hold on his arm as he pulls away. "Please, Stefan, think about this—" But he breaks away from both of them, disappearing into the depths of the mall and Damon hisses, "God _damn_ it," before flashing after him. Both of her hands are pressed to her mouth in silent desperation and fragments of thoughts race through her mind. She thinks that she might actually pass out when a hard arm wraps itself around her waist.

"Time to go," Klaus says roughly in her ear, and she pushes away desperately at him. He doesn't even seem to feel her struggles and she finds herself being pulled outside against her will, rain soaking through her clothes.

"We can't just leave Stefan and Damon," she protests, her voice cracking as it rises in pitch. "Let _go_ of me, Klaus!" But he is immovable, snapping at her, "I refuse to allow you to get yourself killed over this," and before she quite realizes what's happened, he's pinned her to his car, his hips pressing down heavily onto hers to keep her from escaping.

His face is hardly an inch from hers and she stops breathing—stops _moving_—when she sees that his eyes are completely yellow. "Klaus," she whispers, her heart hammering against her ribcage and her hands cautiously cupping his face. "We can't leave them."

It takes only a second for the blue to return and her knees almost give out in relief as he turns his face into her hand. His stubble scratches against her palm and his fingers encircle her wrists, leaving bruises that fade almost as soon as they had appeared. "Do not move," he orders harshly and as he disappears back into the mall from hell, she believes he might actually do her violence if she attempted to follow him. Regardless, she has no desire to go back into that house of horrors so she stays rooted to the spot, eyes shut and telling God that He needed to get back form vacay like _right now_.

"Let _go_!" she hears Stefan yell and her eyes fly open to take in the blood dripping down Stefan's chin and shirt. Klaus slams him next to her and she winces as she hears the bend of metal and the crack of bone simultaneously.

"Calm down," Klaus snaps, and she winces when she sees his pupil dilate. Stefan stops struggling immediately and Klaus shoves him into Damon, who glares back.

"This was a fucking _shitty_ idea," he snarls at Caroline, jerking open the back door of Klaus's car and pushing Stefan inside. "Next time you wanna try and play Let's Make a Deal with fucking psychopaths, Barbie, leave me and my brother the fuck out of it."

"I'm sorry," she whispers, but it's lost on the wind.

… … … …

Caroline elects to ride the three hours back with Klaus because he's not threatening her with bodily harm—like Damon—or simply staring at what's in front of him with all the liveliness of a post-op lobotomy patient—like Stefan. She has no idea what Famine said to him, and honestly, she doesn't want to know, because if Stefan has issues with craving blood too intensely, then Klaus definitely has issues with craving _everything_ too intensely. And if she's really, brutally honest with herself, she'll admit that she, herself, is probably fairly high up on the list of what Klaus wants. Swallowing, she pushes that out of her mind to deal with later.

She concentrates instead on trying to reach Dean and Sam. Neither is answering their cell phones and Castiel has yet to pop into the backseat of Klaus's car, so she's officially starting to fight off severe anxiety. Her fingers jitter across the armrest that separates her and Klaus as she reaches Sam's voicemail—again. "Please call me, Sam," she says quietly into the speaker, and when she hangs up, she pulls her knees into her chest and stares at the sopping wet scenery flying by her window.

"This was such a stupid idea," she mumbles, defeated, and her head drops back against the headrest as she shuts her eyes. She tries to will her phone to ring, beep, vibrate, _whatever_—but it sits silently on her lap. "They aren't answering."

Klaus doesn't look over at her. "I'm sure it's nothing," he says flatly and it rings completely false to her. She shoots him a glare out of the corner of her eye but doesn't reply and they fall into an awkward, uncomfortable silence. It makes her fidget.

"Ok, what is wrong with you?" she bursts out after a few more minutes of hard quiet. She watches as a muscle jumps in his jaw and his hand flexes—then relaxes—against the steering wheel. "Nothing," he forces out between clenched teeth and she scoffs.

"Right. You're the picture of relaxation. You should be on a yoga poster with _namaste_ written over your face." She snorts and crosses her arms over her chest.

His eyes flash and before she knows what's happening, he's pulling over and storming out of the car, seemingly impervious to the (albeit slowing) rain. Her mouth drops open and hangs there for a few seconds before she recovers and follows. Her hair and makeup are already to shot to hell anyway.

"The hell are you doing?" she demands, slamming her door shut behind her, and he whirls on her. Water flies off of him furiously.

"Do you realize how close you came to death today?" he bellows and she skirts away from the car because no way is she sacrificing an escape route. She pushes wet hair out of her eyes.

"Oh my God, do you think I'm a moron?" she snaps back, and they circle each other, glaring hotly.

"That is entirely up for debate, sweetheart," he growls out and, her temper getting the best of her, she kicks mud up at him. It doesn't do anything but make her feel a little bit better—she's too far from him for any of it to actually reach him.

"Seriously!" she shouts at him, throwing her hands in the air. "What in the holy hell did Famine _say_ to you to make you freak out like this?" And she has to stop herself from slapping her palm to her forehead, because did she not just say to herself that she didn't want to know? God, she _so_ doesn't want to know.

In the blink of an eye, he's right in front of her, invading her personal space, his hands tight around her elbows. Her eyes fly to his, and she can't help the flood of relief that comes with the confirmation that there is no gold shading in those dark blue depths. The rain is almost non-existent now, but her clothes hang heavily off of her from being so thoroughly soaked.

"What did Famine say to me?" he echoes her and his voice has dropped from enraged shouting to low and silky; she's pretty sure this is worse. "Nothing I didn't already know, love." She sucks in a shaky breath as his face falls into her neck and he inhales at the spot where her shoulder and her neck meet. "_Lust for power_," he mimics, and she locks her knees resolutely when his lips find her ear. "_A pathological need to be loved_," he continues, and he lets go of her arms so that his hands can trail down her sides. "And this one concerns you, sweetheart, so I recommend that you listen—_a near uncontrollable want for this one girl._"

Her breath catches and when his mouth crashes down on hers, his arms tightening against her, she thinks that this might be a really bad idea. But she doesn't stop him. Far from it.

She kisses him back.

He makes a sound of triumph and she barely even cares when her back presses against the metal of his car because all she can think about is the fact that a thousand years of practice has made him pretty much an expert at the art of kissing—certainly better than anyone she can compare him to. One of his hands buries itself in her wet hair, and her arms lift to twine themselves around his neck. She shifts so that one of her legs moves up to rest slightly on his hip and he settles right in between her legs; she sighs a little into his mouth, barely caring that she's just committed a total slut-move.

The fingers on the hand that isn't currently twined in her hair slide into her empty belt loops, pulling her flush against him and the slight sound she makes has him smirking into her mouth.

Thank God her phone rings as his hand travels down into her back pocket because she really has no idea how far she's about to let him go. She pulls away despite his slight growl of protest and, catching her breath, she turns around to reach for her phone where it's sitting on her seat. His chest presses against her back and his nose touches her hair as his hand runs down her thigh.

"Stop," she whispers as she slides the unlock bar on her phone, swatting at his hand, but it's half-hearted and he knows it.

"Please tell me you're okay," she says in lieu of a greeting and Dean says, "We're fine. Saved Chicago too, so you can hit pause on your mourning for deep dish pizza and the Bears."

"Glad to hear it," she says with false brightness and she turns around to give Klaus a warning look.

"You okay, Care?" Dean asks and she feels a flash of guilt at the concern in his voice. "You sound weird." His tone turns suspicious. "You haven't done anything stupid, have you?"

_So many things_, she thinks and Klaus smirks at her, but she says, "Give me some credit, Dean. When are you coming home?"

"On the way now. See you soon—and be careful okay? Everything's about to go to shit, so be on the lookout." Dean pauses and when he adds softly, "I love you, Care—you know that, right?" her throat closes up and she thinks guiltily, _what the hell am I doing?_ "Yeah I know. I love you too," she whispers back, her eyes dropping down, and she feels Klaus straighten.

Caroline hangs up and taps her nail against her phone screen before pointing at Klaus. "I—you—no. We have to go home. Right now." She takes a deep breath to find her nerve and holds her hands to her forehead. "Klaus—this—it can't happen again."

His hands pause against her and his face is unreadable as he looks down at her. "It _can't_," she insists, crossing her arms. "It—this was a—"

"If you say mistake," he warns, eyes darkening, and he doesn't finish his thought, but she gets the picture.

"It can't happen again," she repeats firmly. "We—I'm Caroline, and you're Klaus, and we're on totally different sides!"

Klaus sends her a half sneer that makes her want to give him a good smack. "This is the apocalypse, love," he says coolly, walking to the driver's side of the car. "We're all on the same side now—or did you forget?"

She scowls at him before opening her own door and sliding into the seat. "I didn't forget," she mutters under breath, adding forcefully, "But as soon as this is over, you're going to go right back to siphoning off my best friend's blood against her will and screwing over everyone I care about, so just because we share an acute desire to see the world continue its spin around the sun doesn't mean I've forgotten that either."

… … … …

A few hours after he drops her off—and after she has enough to process what just exactly happened—she calls Elena and begs her to come over.

"Stefan won't look at anyone," Elena says quietly, fingers twisting around the pillow in her lap. "And Damon won't tell me what happened." She fixes Caroline with large, worried brown eyes. "Please, Care. What just happened in Philadelphia?"

Caroline stalls by taking a long sip of her diet iced tea. "Elena," she says slowly, fingers tapping idly against the side of the bottle, "trust me on this one. You're better off not knowing." Her mind flicks back to the horror of the shopping mall. "Just—it's the stuff nightmares are made of."

Elena bites her lip and when she whispers, "I—_we_ had just gotten Stefan back," horrible, acid-tasting guilt floods through Caroline. "When will this be over?"

Caroline grinds her back molars together to keep from telling her the truth—_never_. Because at this point, it's always something—a vampire, a werewolf, a hybrid, a witch, an apocalypse, a dead loved one—they're never getting out of this whole and intact. But she doesn't tell Elena that.

Instead, she distracts. "Please don't hate me," she begins and Elena looks up at her, curiosity beating out tears for the moment. "But I kissed Klaus."

Elena blinks at her slowly before any sort of reaction sets in.

But the reaction that she does have is so not what Caroline was expecting.

"Oh," she says. Then she looks down at the wrinkled pillowcase that she's been wrapping around her finger.

"Oh?" Caroline repeats bemusedly. "_Oh_? That's it?"

Elena continues her staring contest with the sheets. "I kissed Damon."

Caroline's mouth drops slightly before she catches herself. "_Oh_."

Elena nods, pushing her hair back. "Yeah." She sighs. "I'm playing two brothers against each other—just like my great-great-great, forty time great grandmother did. And Damon was a huge, abusive dickwad to you."

Caroline offers her a tiny smile. "I made out with the guy who tried to kill the entire town. And who succeeded in killing you."

Elena considers her, her curtain of dark hair falling over one shoulder. "Even?"

She nods in return. "We're equally terrible people," she quips brightly and Elena gives her a smile that chases away the memory of Philadelphia—for at least a moment.

… … … …

Sam comes inside first, dropping their luggage on the floor and he whispers to her warningly, "Dean is about three seconds away from flipping out on you for your Philly excursion."

"How did he find out?" she hisses back and Sam jerks a pointed nod in Castiel's direction.

"Angel Psychic Friends," he says, flashing her a sympathetic look. "He's been raging all the way since West Virginia."

"Great," she mumbled, sending a glare Castiel's way. He doesn't look even the slightest bit bothered.

"So how was Famine? Doing well, I hope? Did you ask him about his work in Ethiopia?" Dean asks casually, kicking the door shut easily behind him. She flinches a little.

"He was kind of a d-bag. How was Death?"

He scowls at her. "This isn't a joke, Caroline. You can't just try to take on a Horseman on your own like that!"

"I wasn't alone," she retorts, and she nearly bites off her own tongue a second later. _Dumbass move, Caroline._ Dean's eyes narrow and he says slowly, "So who enabled you this time?"

She shrugs, attempting to be nonchalant. "Damon and Stefan. The usual suspects."

"And the Original, Niklaus," Castiel adds from his spot leaning against the back of the couch; she shoots him a betrayed look that seems to roll right off of him.

Dean's eyes are pure emerald flame. "Are you f—_Caroline_! Why—why would you do that? Why would you put yourself in that position?" His face is pale and she is so sick of feeling guilty, regardless of whether or not it's deserved.

"I was trying to help," she says meekly, looking down at the ground; and the stress of the past few days threatens to break her Buffy resolve. "I'm sorry." She takes a shaky breath and adds, "We can scratch Famine off of the potential allies list, though."

"Not necessarily," Sam says comfortingly and Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. He points at her and says, "I'm not done yelling at you, but I'm way too tired to finish right now." He looks pained and continues, "And since Liz has been way too busy to deal with everything lately—you're grounded."

Her mouth isn't the only one that drops open—Sam gapes at Dean and Castiel is staring at them all with blatant fascination. "You've got to be _joking_," she protests weakly and Dean scowls at her.

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" he demands, crossing his arms and giving her his best _you will do as John Winchester says, young lady_ look. "You go to and from school—and _yes_, you can still go to cheerleading, so don't give me that look—but that's it. Got it?"

"But—but you're my _brother_," she sputters uselessly. "You can't do that!"

He shrugs. "Just did. Sorry, Care." He pats her shoulder awkwardly. "I'm doing it because I love you."

It flies completely over her head that this is the second time in as many conversations that he's said that. There's a biting retort on the tip of her tongue as their doorbell rings and Dean holds a hand up.

"You can scream at me in a second," he promises as he swings the door open.

A guy that looks only a little older than Caroline is standing there, a sheet of paper in his hand. Dean raises an eyebrow at him. "Can I help you?"

"Uh," the guy says slowly, looking down at the piece of wrinkled notebook paper he's holding. "Is this the Winchester residence?"

"Yeah," Dean says, giving the guy a long once-over. "Who're you?"

The guy folds his paper back up and sticks his hand out. "I'm Adam," he says, voice friendly. "I'm looking for John Winchester."

... ... ... ...

**tbc.**

* * *

**A/N: **Reviews are wonderful and lovely. I have to work on my dissertation for a bit after this, but I might be tempted to update sooner if there is sufficient love. ;) xo


	8. seven

Hiiiiiiii! Did you miss me? I missed all of you _so much._

**Disclaimer: **I'm just playing around with someone else's characters. Title is from Explosions in the Sky.

**A/N:** AU. (Apparently AH does not mean Alternate History like I thought. Duh at me; this is obviously not All Human.) Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed—and there were a lot of you this time around! I felt so popular for a hot minute. Seriously, though, you have no idea how much it means to me that y'all went THREE WHOLE MONTHS (holy crap I'm so sorry) without an update and were still so very lovely to me.

You guys, my life has been a giant ball of crazy. My dissertation basically took over my brain, I've been job hunting, the Olympics happened, my job hunt became successful, college football started back, it's election season in the US and I'm a political junkie… /excuses. I had about 5,000 words sitting here getting dusty and when I reread them after turning in my dissertation, I really didn't like them. So I've been reworking it. Nothing but my best for you guys.

Just an FYI—a few of you have already discovered this, but I have a tumblr and while I'm not super active, I do use it to post a few Author's Notes. Like progress reports, I guess you could say. So if you're worried that I've forgotten about this fic (no way, it's totally my baby) or if you want to see how far along I am on other fics, drop me a line there. Or PM me here if you prefer/don't have a tumblr. I usually get back to people within a few days, and I'm totally open to chatting about whatever. Comments, (constructive) criticism, questions, shooting the breeze…I welcome it all.

**Oh by the way**—there's a slightly extended A/N at the end of the chapter, and it kind of clarifies some timeline stuff. Make sure you skim it!

Happy reading! I would love a review if you have the time.

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**7.**

Caroline dreams about Famine.

She dreams that she can feel maggots crawling up her arms with the watery gaze of a vaguely familiar stranger squinting at her as she twists in her bed sheets, trying to throw them off. She looks up and her eyes meet Famine's—he's staring right at her and her cheeks flame, her fangs slicing painfully through her gums. Emptiness gnaws at her stomach, and she's _so hungry_.

The scene shifts and she's standing in a diner, a table with two chairs in front of her. Dean sits in one, hands clasped together solemnly, and a thin man with sparse white hair sits across from him, one bony hand curled around a long black cane. She tries to speak, but even as she feels her throat working, no sound comes out of her mouth. The thin man is wearing a white ring and Dean's face is pale. They are both talking, their lips moving, but she can hear nothing—not even the sound of Dean's fork as it scrapes against his plate (because of _course_ Dean would be chowing down while sitting across from freaking Death). The silence is utterly deafening despite the storm that rages outside the restaurant.

The ground moves under her feet and she blinks; Klaus is pushing blood bag after blood bag at Stefan, whose eyes become more deranged with each gulp even as self-loathing crawls over his face. She doesn't want to see this, doesn't want to have this image of Stefan burned into her brain, and she gets her wish. There's a blinding light, and with that Caroline finds herself standing over a fresh grave, the dark earth still newly moved, and ice swims in her veins. There is no name on the headstone but a scratchy voice whispers in her ear, _Here lies Dean Winchester._

And then it all fades to black.

She wakes herself up when she moans, "No," and, taking several gasping breaths, pushes herself up on her elbows. She has literally no idea how she ended up in her bed, much less how she actually managed to fall asleep. Especially with, you know, _everything_.

Her door is shut, but the lights in the hallway are turned on and she can hear the hum of low voices. Lifting her covers, she swings her legs carefully down to the floor, pulling a sweatshirt over her head as she reaches for her doorknob. The events of the day before are a messy blur and she rubs her face with her sleeve, trying to mentally prepare herself for not only all the crap she's missed at school but also for the onslaught of freaking Apocalyptic Horsemen. Because what Mystic Falls has really been missing is definitely a Pestilence, War and Famine cocktail. _Just one olive in my end of the world martini, barkeep._

_Famine_. Despite the fact that she can't feel cold—duh, she's dead; she is cold _personified_—a shiver runs down Caroline's back. God, she hopes Stefan doesn't hate her, even if she totally hates herself. She rubs her arms, trying to shake the feel of horrible little worms inching along her skin.

"Caroline," Castiel says without warning from behind her; she jumps and whirls around, her hand going to her forehead and rubbing exasperatedly.

"Again with the materializing out of thin air," she mumbles, sliding her hands into the pouch on her sweatshirt. Castiel blinks and she shrugs. "What's up, Cas?"

He takes several steps forward so that she has to look up at him. His eyes are dark and serious and the nameless headstone flashes in her mind's eye. "Something's wrong."

Caroline sighs. "Of course it is. Welcome to Team Forbes, where something is always going freaking _wrong_." Castiel raises an eyebrow at her, and she's positive he picked up this incredulous look from Dean. "I mean, what is it?"

Castiel's eyes flicker to the door behind her. "I don't trust your guest."

"Adam?" At Castiel's nod, she turns slightly, her bare feet padding gently on the floor. "He's human—or at least he smells like it."

"His humanity does not make him trustworthy," Castiel says bluntly.

She frowns up at him, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Jeez, Cas, don't mince words or anything. Are you trying to say he's lying about this family stuff?" Her eyes widen and she reaches out to grasp the lapels of Castiel's coat in tight fists. "Is he lying about being John's son?"

Castiel's expression changes and he won't quite meet her eyes as he says uncomfortably, "Not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly?" she demands, pulling him in slightly closer, her fingers tightening around his collar. "It's kind of a yes or no question."

He finally looks at her and she reads the answer in his face before he confirms it. "He isn't lying about that. John Winchester is his father, Caroline."

Exhaling, she releases him and crosses her arms over her chest. "So what, then? Is he some angel decoy or something?"

Castiel shakes his head in frustration. "I don't know, but something isn't right with him. I feel it." He looks at her curiously. "You don't?"

"Cas, in the past twenty-four hours, I've stared down one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, made a couple of really bad life choices, and had a brand new brother dropped in my lap. Not gonna lie, right now I probably couldn't feel a nuclear explosion." She pauses. "What kind of feeling?"

"It's too coincidental," Castiel says grimly. "Something is wrong." He fixes her with a pointed look. "Do not trust him."

"Believe me," she replies dryly, "I'd be really surprised if anyone did." One finger wraps around a tangled piece of hair and she thinks idly that she really needs to shower because she smells like dirty rainwater. "Do you know why he's here—why he was looking for John?"

Castiel considers her and she gets the frustrated feeling that he knows a lot more than he's letting on. "It is of little import," he says finally. "Just be careful with what you trust him with."

"We're not exactly inviting him to Thanksgiving dinner," she tells him sardonically, nudging her wooden floor with her toe. "Castiel, if you know something, you have to tell me. If it can help save Dean, or, you know, the _world_—"

The shuffle of feet outside of her door silences her and Caroline inhales sharply before carefully glancing over one shoulder. There's a hesitant knock followed by a _whoosh_ behind her and Caroline doesn't have to look to know that Castiel has vanished.

"Hey," Sam says, poking his head cautiously. "You okay?" He ventures in, his arms crossed over his chest. "Kind of a long night." He glances over his shoulder at the first beams of sunlight breaking through windows and spilling down the hallway. "I know I didn't sleep well."

"Yeah well," Caroline says with a flippancy that proves she is just trying way too hard this morning. "I slept like the dead." She pauses. "Er—no pun intended. I don't think."

Sam doesn't laugh. "You can't pull something like that again, Care. Dean's right on this one."

"Seriously, Sam?" Caroline demands in disbelief. "This from the guy who went on a solitary bender after Dean d—was gone? How many of Grimm's creatures did you take on by yourself? I wasn't even _alone_."

His expression doesn't change in the slightest and it's a little surprising. "No, you were with three highly volatile vampires, each of them their own terrifying version of unhinged."

It's not the most vitriolic of comments but for reasons she can't totally explain, Caroline seethes. "Where was all this brim and vitriol last night?" she asks sarcastically. "You were all about being Mr. Negotiator then."

Something does flicker in his eyes at that. "Bad dreams," he says gruffly and all the air leaves Caroline's lungs.

"Morning," Liz interrupts from the doorway of the master bedroom, distracting both of them. Judging from the dark smudges under her mother's eyes, Caroline's pretty sure that no one in their house had a peaceful night's sleep.

"Morning," she and Sam echo back and as Liz brushes past them, Caroline hears her mom's heartbeat racing.

"Mom," she calls after her mother, hurrying down the hall after her. "Are you—you, know okay?" Liz gives her a speaking glance and Caroline winces. "Obviously you're not _okay_ okay, but are you…how are you with this?"

Liz pours steaming coffee into her shiny brown thermos and doesn't respond for a few seconds. "John's gone, Care," she says quietly. "There's no point in being angry with his ghost."

"So? Not everything has to have a point, Mom."

Liz shakes her head firmly. "It's a waste of time, and time is one thing that's in short supply right now."

"Mom," Caroline repeats, her eyebrows knitting together. "John had another _kid_. That's not like, oops he was in a ton of debt, have fun paying off the loan sharks! That's John's son in there!"

"I'm very aware of that," Liz says shortly, "but think of it this way, Care. He's Sam and Dean's brother. That makes him your stepbrother, and that makes him family. We take care of our own here." Her tone makes it perfectly clear there is to be no more discussion of John Winchester's seemingly eternal supply of secrets.

Tucking her hands into the bottom of her sweatshirt, Caroline stares out the kitchen window at the blackbirds milling around the front yard. "What do I even say to him?" She fingers the Sheriff's badge resting on the counter before looking over her shoulder at the guy sleeping on the couch. "Why is he _staying here_? Don't we have enough problems?"

"Because," Liz says in her _I spent sixteen hours in labor with you and I will tolerate no arguments_ voice, "he's John's son, and this is—was—_is_ John's home. Where else is he supposed to go?" She takes the badge from Caroline's nervous fingers and pats her shoulder, her face softening. "If you want to stay home from school today, honey…."

"I've already missed too much," Caroline reminds her wearily. And besides, she's not totally sure she wants to spend the whole day playing the Newlywed Game with a long lost stepbrother, but she doesn't tell Liz that. "Have a good day at work, Mom," she says as Liz climbs into the Sheriff's car, the beginnings of stress lines already forming on her face.

After Liz's departure, Caroline ventures over to sit cross-legged on the ottoman in front of the couch, trying to summon all of her Miss Mystic Falls charm to aim right at this new addition. She's completely unsurprised when she finds Adam awake, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression.

"Hey," she ventures quietly and Adam turns his head in her direction.

"Hey," he says back.

They sit in an awkward silence; Caroline has no idea what to say this guy and it's painfully obvious that he's equally at a loss. So much for her pageant queen training. "Um," she says finally, "something happened to your mom?"

His mouth tightens and she wishes that her crabby, early-morning self had more tact. "Yeah," he says flatly, "she died. Two weeks ago." He turns back towards the ceiling. "I was coming to tell Da—John."

"I'm sorry," she offers, biting her lip, and maybe he hears the sincerity in her voice because he sits up and faces her.

"Thanks," he says with a short nod and she gestures towards the kitchen.

"Do you want some coffee or something?"

Adam considers her for a few minutes and she wonders just how much older he is than her because he looks so young. "Yeah," he says slowly. "That sounds okay."

... … … …

Caroline leaves Adam to go get ready for school, but once she's done, she pauses and listens to her surroundings. Despite the house's usual noise of the early morning routines of its occupants, there's a strange crackle in the air that she can't quite put her finger on. She makes a note to ask Bonnie about what happens if you combine witchy juju with angel wars (on a scale of one to Mentos in Diet Coke) when she smells something burning and follows it to the kitchen. Her nose wrinkles as smoke wafts off of the pot Dean is standing in front of.

"You're coming straight home after cheerleading, got it?" Dean says from his spot over the stove when he sees her. He fixes her with a look before returning to stare down at his sad attempt at cheese grits. At her scoff, he adds, "Don't think all this made me forget about you skipping town with the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort. No detours after practice, got it?"

After the events of the past twenty-four hours, Caroline's tolerance at being treated like a child is at an all-time low. She rolls her eyes at him and doesn't respond to his provocation, instead gathering her books and saying pointedly, "You're doing that wrong." She nods at his grits. "They'll taste like crap."

"Thanks, Paula Dean," he grumbles irritably and Sam laughs from where he's reading the morning paper at the table. Caroline sends him serious side-eye; he's not off her shit list just yet. "Don't suppose you could help," Dean adds grumpily.

She considers him before shrugging one shoulder. "They look too watery. Your best bet is to abandon ship. I say go for the Pop Tarts." She turns to grab her car keys, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Any other orders, General Patton, or am I free to go?"

He rolls his eyes at her. "It's for your own good," he says, but his voice loses conviction as he trails off and his eyebrows knit together in apparent confusion. "_Crap._"

"Congratulations," Sam quips over his coffee cup. "You're officially Dad."

Caroline hitches her bag further up her shoulder and, upon glancing around and noticing a glaring absence, asks cautiously, "Where's Adam?" Her voice pauses momentarily over the name and she stumbles on the delivery.

Dean doesn't flinch or cringe, but out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sam's face drop slightly. "He decided to stay at the Motel 6 off the interstate," Dean says, dumping his failed attempt at breakfast in the trashcan. Caroline gapes at him.

"What? Why would he do that? He was fine an hour ago! Seriously, I'm in the shower for _ten minutes_—"

"Why are you being so quick to defend this kid, Care?" Dean demands, scraping forcefully at the remains of his grits sticking to the bottom of the pot, the fork making painful metal-on-metal screeches.

"Why are you so quick to be an ass to him? Or, you know, in general?" she counters, crossing her arms and they glare at each other until Sam hops up and takes Caroline's elbow. "School," he reminds her, leading her out of the house. She scowls at him too because seriously, screw this bullshit.

"Let go," she snaps, yanking away from him and crossing her arms over her chest—the picture of teenage defiance. "You're just as bad as him anyway."

Sam rolls his eyes. "You might want to go easy on everyone, Care," he says irritably and she scowls in response. "Especially Dean. You know how he idealized Dad."

"You know what though, Sam? This isn't just happening to you and Dean," Caroline points out crossly; there's a horrible low hum in her eardrums and a red tint to her vision. "It's happening to me and to my _mom_. Where's the sympathy for her? _God_."

They engage in a brief glare-off before Caroline blinks and says slowly, all the angry heat and the buzzing in her ears vanishing, "Wait. What just happened?"

Sam looks dazed. "I think we had a fight," he says with a touch of awe, because seriously, they don't fight. Like, _ever_. She and Sam are so similar in so many areas that it's kind of bizarre that they aren't actually blood relatives. She feels like someone just dumped a giant bucket of _wake the fuck up_ on her.

"Yeah," she says slowly, her tongue feeling oddly thick and slow, "We did." She gnaws on her lower lip before gripping Sam's hand in hers. "I'm really sorry, Sam. I just…how are you holding up with all of this?"

He gives her a small, slightly forced smile and runs a hand through his hair. "I've been better," he says slowly, "but I've been worse too." He stops and squares his shoulders, looking up at the bright blue sky with an unreadable expression. "It's all really hard to absorb, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," she says quietly and he glances down at her, nudging her shin with his foot.

"What about you, Care? You dealing with everything okay?"

She opens her mouth to brush away his concerns but when he raises an eyebrow at her, she halts and considers him thoughtfully. "I'm tired," she says finally, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "And I'm really ready for this to be over. But…I've been worse too."

Sam gives her a lopsided half-smile. "I'll talk to Dean about this whole grounding thing. He's just…on edge with everything." He shifts a little awkwardly and adds, "I think Death pulled a number on him."

Caroline straightens and tightens her grip on her bag. "Wait, what do you mean? What kind of a number?" Her voice ticks up an octave. "What happened in Chicago, Sam?"

Sam shakes his head and holds up a hand. "I don't know all the details, Care—he's fine, so don't freak too much, but after he was done talking to Death…" Sam trails off and gestures helplessly. "It was like something shifted in him." Dread pools in her stomach but before she can pry any more information out of him, Sam pushes himself off of her car and opens the driver side door for her. "You'd better go. Don't want to be late for homeroom." She recognizes the tactic. _You just got shut down, Forbes._

She rolls her eyes at him, turning to climb inside. "This conversation isn't over, you know," she warns, and he laughs a little.

"Believe me," he says with a hint of irony, "I'm fully aware."

… … … …

"Wait, what?" Bonnie's green eyes are as wide as saucers and Elena's mouth has dropped into a perfect O.

"I told you," Caroline says, eyes downcast at her hurriedly thrown together sandwich. "John has—_had _another kid. Before he met my mom. Adam."

"And this guy just showed up? No warning?" Elena asks, nose wrinkling in disbelief as Caroline shakes her head in confirmation. "Care—that's a little too…" she waves her hands searchingly in front of her tray. "It's a little too coincidental to be a coincidence."

"Believe me," Carline says dryly, picking a flake of crust off of the wheat bread. "All angles—and angels—are being considered."

"This is unreal," Bonnie breathes, her own brown bagged lunch forgotten at her elbow. Caroline's fingers tighten around her water bottle and she inhales deeply through her nose. _Yoga breathing_, she thinks with more than a little sourness. _Calming, my ass._ Maybe aromatherapy is the way to go—she makes a mental note to investigate scented candles later. God, she needs to chill out.

"So what are you guys gonna do?" Elena wants to know and the breeze picks up as Caroline shrugs.

"He stayed with us last night," she says, "and we did all the tricks in the book. Silver, holy water—hell, there's a Devil's trap drawn on the bottom of our welcome mat and I'm telling you, this guy's clean." She shrugs, inwardly marveling at her own continued numbness. "We're all just kind of in shock, I guess."

There's an expression of deep sympathy on Elena's face. "When I found out that my mom—that I was adopted, for days it felt like I couldn't get enough air," she offers quietly. "Like I had had the wind knocked out of me, or something."

"Yeah, well," Caroline says with more fake brightness than she means, "Good thing I don't need to breathe or anything." A flash of hurt crosses Elena's face and Caroline winces. "I'm sorry," she says, leaning forward on her elbows and letting her hands comb through her bangs. "I suck. I'm a horrible friend."

Elena shakes her head without a moment's hesitation. "No," she insists, her hand coming over to rest on Caroline's shoulder. "It's a shock, and it's not easy to get past." She pauses. "How are Sam and Dean taking it?"

Caroline is quiet, her eyes trained on her half-eaten BLT. "Sam's doing better than Dean," she says finally. "Dean's taking it really personally." She pokes unenthusiastically at the sandwich. "Like he and Sam weren't enough for John, you know?"

"Oh, Care," Bonnie says sympathetically and Caroline sighs. "I know. He thinks that Adam's some kind of baddie we haven't run into yet, or an angel trap."

The three are quiet until Elena ventures carefully, "What's he like?"

Caroline shrugs again. "What does it matter?" she asks dejectedly. "If he's a human, he can't hang around us too much or else he won't be one for very long—he'll be lucky to even be alive. And if he's not human…" she lets herself trail off before finishing, "There's no point."

"But he's your family," Elena protests and Caroline inhales through her nose again.

"Come on, Elena," Bonnie says before Caroline has inhaled enough deep yoga breaths to feel calm, "didn't you have Damon erase Jeremy's memories once? Surely you get the protective instinct."

"Just because I get it—"

"Look," Caroline interrupts, calming zen thoughts be damned because they are so failing, "Adam isn't getting involved. If he's the real deal, then John deserves to have at least one branch on his family tree not turn out to be a dead end. And if he's some imposter, then—" she hesitates for the briefest of moments. "—then he's dead anyway."

"Guys," Bonnie says lowly and, noting the tone of her voice, Elena and Caroline both stiffen. "Who's that with Alaric?"

Before Caroline turns around, the hair on her arms stands straight up and her spine tingles like someone has run an ice cube down her nerves. She's so completely positive that when she turns around, it will be Death she sees—with thinning white hair and the gaunt face from her dream—that when she finally does risk a glance over one shoulder, her heart sputters almost as hard as it did when she was alive.

It's not him. The man walking next to Alaric looks nothing like the Death she saw in her nightmare—this man is way younger, and not half-bad in the looks department and very much not Death. The relief that floods through her is almost as paralyzing as the fear it replaces.

He isn't Death, but she has a sinking feeling that that doesn't mean much.

… … … …

The Forbes-Winchester house is still crackling with tension when Caroline comes home (directly from cheerleading, as ordered) and Adam's one duffle bag is still gone. There are several cartons of Chinese takeout sitting on the kitchen table, in what she assumes is Dean's peace offering, but her nerves are frayed and she's pretty much been the direct opposite of laid back all day.

But the hot and sour soup smells really good, so she swallows a little bit of her pride and grabs the waxy bowl just as Dean walks in. The temperature in the room drops a few degrees and they eye each other like boxers in the ring.

It's Dean who finally breaks the silence. "Did you rule your cheertatorship with an iron fist today, Torrence?"

She doesn't even realize her entire body has tensed until her muscles relax at the joke. "I knew you liked _Bring It On_ more than you would admit. Hater."

He flashes her a grin. "Our generation's _Citizen Kane_, Care." Some of his smile fades and he says, with more hesitancy than she's used to seeing from Dean, "Look—I'm just trying to look out for you, okay?" He shrugs a shoulder, and if most of Caroline's anger hadn't evaporated with his lame attempt at humor, it does at the uncertainty on his face. It's just so _un-Dean_. "You're the only sister I've got." And yep, there goes all of her righteous indignation, right out the window without so much as a wave goodbye. She melts.

"I know," she says quietly and it means a lot of things—_I get it; you're the only Dean I've got; we take care of our own_. "Do your worst, Winchester."

He doesn't disappoint.

"So," Dean says as Sam settles in next to Caroline with his sweet and sour pork, looking at them like they're actors on a movie screen. "You want to explain just exactly what was going through your mind—assuming you still have one—" she rolls her eyes at him, because _unnecessary_, "when you decided to take on a Horseman by yourself?" There is a flutter behind the couch and no one is fazed when Castiel stares down curiously at the takeout before taking a carton and sitting.

"Just so you know, since I basically invited this line of questioning I'm also reserving the right to put the kibosh on it at any time," she tells him primly, "and besides, I wasn't by myself." She stabs at her rice with a chopstick. "Stefan and Damon were there."

"Don't even go there with me, kid," Dean warns, "because trust me, your company is a whole other issue and I've got a lot of yelling planned for that too." She bristles at 'kid' and, despite their fresh reconciliation, considers throwing a piece of egg right at his forehead.

"If I may," Castiel interrupts as his fingers roll clumsily over his chopsticks. "How did you and the other vampires fare with Famine?"

She blinks at him. "What do you mean, how did we fare? Like…what happened?" She turns to Sam. "Is he asking what happened?"

"Think so," Sam says through a mouthful of spring rolls.

Caroline considers her words carefully, because there is just no scenario on earth that plays out with Dean actually needing to know about her game of tonsil hockey with Main Villain Numero Dos (she figures the Apocalyptic-minded all tie for first place). "Well," she says slowly, "Stefan went kind of bonkers, but in retrospect, that's not all that surprising."

Castiel frowns as most of his rice falls uselessly back into his carton. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "Stefan has blood issues." At the continued blank look on Castiel's face, she clarifies, "He can't drink—or be around, really—human blood. He goes crazy, and I mean like, serial killer crazy. Back in the twenties, he killed, like, whole cities." She pauses and shudders. "They called him the Ripper of Monterrey because he ripped people's bodies apart."

"I hate all of your friends," Dean mutters disgustedly and she rolls her eyes at him (even though she totally hates Ripper Stefan too).

"He's been working on his bloodlust," she defends weakly to Castiel, who is gazing thoughtfully at the floor. "He was doing really well, but now…who knows."

"And the others?" he wants to know.

"Damon seemed fine, and I was okay," she says, deliberately avoiding the Klaus issue because really, why set off a bomb when she's doing so well putting out the brush fire? "But I'm kind of a control freak, if you hadn't noticed, so maybe that helped? And Damon…" she shrugs. "I think when it comes to Stefan and Elena, he's got a total one-track mind. Or maybe Famine just wasn't interested in us." She scowls. "Like I really know the inner workings of Famine's psycho brain."

Dean's eyes narrow at her. "You seem to do okay with Klaus's psycho brain. Speaking of, how did your boyfriend handle himself?"

Caroline glares at him. "Okay, one—still not my boyfriend. Two—Famine taunted him some, but to be honest, I was trying to help Damon keep a hold on Stefan so I wasn't paying that close of attention." _Liar liar, pants on fire._

Castiel seems to accept that, eyeing his carton of chicken fried rice with disdain. Remembering her conversation with Sam, Caroline turns to Dean and says delicately, "And by the way…you never did tell me how things went with Death." She shudders slightly. "Was he as creepy as the Ghost of Christmas Future?"

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat and Sam looks up from his carton. _Oh, this is so not good. _"Spill it already. I'm imagining the worst anyway."

When Dean remains silent, Castiel says, "Death serves the Host. He is present at all mass tragedy, from Noah's flood to your September 11th."

"He's a stickler for rules," Sam adds, poking at the bottom of his carton. "Not a big fan of the Host going against God and doing their own apocalypse."

Her heart lightens slightly. "So he's helping us?"

"Pretty much," Sam says with a shrug. "He called the angels bratty children." Caroline blinks; it's a pretty apt description as far she's concerned. In fact, she thinks Death might have stolen her line.

"I made a deal with him," Dean breaks in quietly and all three of them stare at him in surprise.

"You _what_?" Sam demands and Caroline's mouth hangs open slightly.

"Made a deal with Death," Dean repeats, inspecting his fortune cookie with far too much interest. "Anything and everything to stop the Apocalypse."

Caroline's skin turns cold and Castiel says, voice gravelly, "Dean."

"I know," Dean snaps, breaking into his fortune cookie with surprising force, crumbs littering the floor around his feet. "But I had to. He can get us weapons that can kill Michael."

"Weapons that can kill you," she corrects flatly. "Because that's still the plan, right?"

"Still looking," he says shortly and Caroline exhales through tightly clenched teeth.

… … … …

It's been two weeks since Michael-Matt has made an appearance at school and teachers are starting to not buy the carefully constructed fabrication that she, Tyler, and Elena have been spinning.

"You tell Mr. Donovan that if he misses another one of my classes, he won't be graduating with his class," says their third period biology teacher, her face pinched with a pointedly disapproving look as she hands Caroline a stack of notes and worksheets.

"If Donovan isn't back in class by the end of the week, I have no choice but to give him an Incomplete on the semester," says their sixth period English teacher and Tyler groans in her ear.

"I'm trying," Alaric says at the boarding house later that afternoon and Elena and Caroline send him identical disgruntled looks. Damon hands him a drink and smirks at whatever it is Damon always smirks at. "But Matt hasn't been in school, and not only that, no one's heard from him. The principal called his _house_, guys."

"It's not his fault though," Elena protests weakly; Caroline nods in emphatic agreement but Alaric shrugs.

"I can't exactly tell the faculty why he's been absent, Elena," he points out wearily, rubbing his stubble. "I'm running as much interference as I can."

"Try harder," Elena suggests with a hardness to her voice that makes Caroline straighten and Damon shoot her an alarmed glance. "When this is all over—"

"If it's ever over," Stefan says darkly from his spot by the window, staring at something in the distance. "It's not exactly looking good for our side."

Elena glares at him, her eyes flashing, and starts to retort; but Caroline cuts in, a sudden bubble of desperation bursting in her stomach. "Stop it, both of you!" Her voice shakes. "I think—I think Dean made a deal with Death, and that's _not_ happening, so you better bet your ass we're not losing, got it?" She takes in a shaky breath and says, slightly calmer, "It's just not happening, okay?"

Stefan lets out a half growl, half sigh and starts to say something when screaming, echoed by the sound of shattering glass, comes from nearby and interrupts him.

"What the hell?" Damon says in an undertone and as Stefan and Damon vanish, Alaric points at Elena and Caroline.

"Stay here," he says and he follows the Salvatores out the front door.

Caroline exchanges a look with Elena and says in disbelief, "As _if_," and they run over to the house next door.

None of them had ever really bothered to think about the Salvatores' next door neighbors—duh, they knew the Thompsons because everyone knows everyone in Mystic Falls—but Caroline's mouth still drops open in shock when she sees Mr. Thompson holding the jagged remains of a crystal vase over his wife's bloody, bashed-in skull.

… … … …

"The official line," Liz says quietly as they surround her, "is a domestic dispute. Henry liked to drink, and they had fallen on hard times. Not an uncommon occurrence in this economy."

"And the unofficial line, Liz?" Damon wants to know, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Elena drops her forehead onto Caroline's shoulder and takes in a ragged gasp of air; Caroline can hear her heart hammering speedily away. "It's okay," she whispers, squeezing her friend's elbow gently and Elena inhales again.

Liz looks at him sharply. "You tell me."

"We don't know, Mom," Caroline says meekly. "It just—they just started screaming at each other and then we heard glass breaking and—"

"And now Mrs. Thompson is dead," Elena says flatly, her face ashen; Caroline reaches for her hand and holds it tightly in her own.

There's a heavy sigh from Liz and Elena's hand clenches down on Caroline's. "There was no history of abuse," Liz says, flipping through the report in her hand. "They'd been married for twenty-seven years and have three adult children." She looks up. "We'll do a formal investigation that I expect will go nowhere, and in the meantime, I want you two to stay out of it. No _Sherlock_ reenactments, Care, and I mean it." She turns to Damon and says, "Tell me Ric left to get Mayor Lockwood, Damon. The Council has to have a plan for this." They start to walk away and Damon drags a slightly glassy-eyed Stefan behind him.

"Are you thinking demon?" Elena asks, some of the color returning to her cheeks as they leave the sheriff's station and the humid air wraps around them.

"I don't think so," Caroline says thoughtfully, waiting patiently at Elena's passenger door as her friend roots around her bag for her keys. "Maybe under normal circumstances, yeah, but not when we're on the same side."

"Angels?" Elena offers, and the hand that pulls her car keys out of her bag shakes a little. Caroline frowns as she climbs in.

"It fits," she muses, her fingers drumming on the arm rest, "but—Elena, are you okay?"

"Fine," Elena says unevenly as she steers the car onto the road. "Just…really unnerved, I guess." Her voice quavers. "I—he just killed her, Caroline. He killed her _in front of us_. How are you so calm about this?"

"I'm not!" she protests, twisting in her seat to look at Elena head on. "I'm not at all calm, Elena, but I think we owe it the Thompsons to figure out what exactly did this to them so that it can't hurt anyone else."

Elena's knuckles are bone-white against the steering wheel. "This is not what I signed up for," she says with rising desperation and Caroline's eyebrows knit together.

"Elena," she says slowly. "Elena, I think maybe you should pull over."

As though someone knocked the wind out of her, Elena nods jerkily and swings the car over to the shoulder of the road.

And promptly staggers off to where the shoulder dips down into the grass and begins to vomit blood.

… … … …

Elena is laying prone in the backseat, only moving to moan and cough up what Caroline is sure are thick blood clots into the paper cup that she had dug out of Elena's trunk. She's careful to not open her mouth or inhale through her nose, and tries desperately to go to her happy place. _Ryan Gosling, the south of France, drinking wine and sunbathing_…her foot presses down on the gas pedal.

She whips Elena's car into the driveway and practically screeches Dean and Sam's names as she hurls the door open to pull out a staggering Elena. When Sam comes running out of the door, Caroline practically flings Elena at him and blurs inside, not even caring the slightest bit who can see her. All she can think about is the emptiness that had chewed away at her insides in her dream; the only coherent thought in her mind is _get away from Elena_. In the blink of an eye she's inside her room, the door slamming shut loudly behind her as she pushes her weight down on it.

_Don't think about blood, don't think about blood, don't think about blood_…her eyes are shut tightly and she presses both of her hands to her mouth.

"Having trouble, sweetheart?" Klaus's voice says amusedly from a place that sounds very far away.

Her eyes fly open because there is seriously _no way_. Her luck cannot actually be this terrible.

Seriously, who is she kidding? Of course this is really happening. _Of course_ her luck is this freaking bad.

He's sitting on her bed, his back resting against her headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him; he looks way too comfy there for her taste and she lashes out at him for it.

"So you've decided to go full on crazy creepy _psycho_?" she snaps, focusing all her whirling emotions onto him like a laser. "Stalker much?"

Klaus shrugs, and the fact that he seems utterly unaffected by her upheaval only serves to stoke her flaming temper. He's the picture of serenity and she feels like her hair might actually be on fire. "I have news."

"Then you could pick up a damn phone—" When what he just said sinks in, Caroline slams on her mental brakes so fast that she gives herself whiplash; but whatever it is can wait. Elena is hacking up _blood_, for God's sake. So she doubles down on her curiosity and says firmly, "You have to go. If anyone sees you—Elena's really sick, and you just—can't be here, Klaus. You have to go, like right now."

She barely blinks when he ignores her, because that really just seems to be his thing. She is surprised, however, when his forehead crinkles and his entire demeanor changes. "What's wrong with Elena?"

And seriously? After all the crap he's put her best friend through, he's suddenly all concerned-Klaus about her health?

"Oh, please," she snorts indelicately (and it would be way more intimidating if her voice didn't crack on the last syllable). "Like you care about Elena now. What, did you get a personality transplant recently? Don't think so."

He doesn't take the bait. "What's wrong with Elena, sweetheart?" And she really, _really_ doesn't like the way his voice has gone all nice and like he actually, genuinely cares. Because this is Klaus, and the things he cares about can be summed up in less than four words: power and family. And last time she checked, he doesn't need Elena healthy—he needs her _alive_.

So she scoffs at him, but even she can hear the undercurrent of panic in the noise; she scraps the attitude. "She's sick," Caroline says finally, her hand making a fist over her doorknob. "She was driving and then she just started like, puking up blood."

Klaus's face is impassive but the air changes; and maybe he senses that panic is starting to bubble back up in her stomach because he puts both of his hands on her shoulders and says firmly, "Breathe, Caroline."

Her automatic inhalation annoys her in retrospect, but his tone brooks no argument and hey, he's been around forever. He's got to have a few tricks up his sleeve on how to control the horrible, desperate hunger.

The coppery scent of blood slams into her senses and she starts shaking her head almost immediately, cutting off her airways. "You have to help Elena—"

"There's nothing I can do for Elena," Klaus says, his hands tightening slightly on her shoulders when her face crumples. "Come now, love, nice deep breath."

She glares at him and tries to forcibly remove his hands; it doesn't exactly work since he's like a billion years old. "What the hell are you doing right now, Klaus? Elena's vomiting up _bodily fluids_, we have to do something!"

"You can't do anything to help her right now," he points out sensibly, and he takes her face in his hands, dark blue eyes boring into hers. He's practically hypnotic, like one of those snake charmers with the flutes or whatever. "Take a deep breath."

She so shouldn't. What she should do is kick him out and run downstairs to try and help, but Caroline is nothing if not brutally honest. She can't even come close to guaranteeing she could control the bloodlust.

"Klaus," she says with a hint of pleading, "Klaus, I _can't_. It's really bad, it's almost never like this—"

"I know," he tells her and she barely recognizes his voice with how gentle it's become. "It's terrible and it's all-consuming. Breathe."

Against all her better judgment, she does. The smell overwhelms her again, but before she can struggle against his grip, Klaus says in the same easy, relaxed tone, "Good girl. Now remember who it is in there. Whose blood that is. Really, truly remember, love." _Elena._ Elena, who has been her best friend since before she can even remember, Elena who would die for her—and has before.

And the horrible thirst slowly settles until it vanishes completely.

She lets her forehead drops onto his chest, utterly spent. "I almost—"

"No, you didn't," Klaus says quietly, and she stays in his embrace (which is way more comforting than it should be, all things considered) until she hears Castiel's voice from the living room. Fear and worry swirl around in her veins and the hand that closes around the doorknob shakes. She turns around—but seriously, what could she even say?_ Thanks for helping me not eat my best friend, pal! By the way, we're probably, definitely never making out again, bye!_—but her window is open and she's alone.

Caroline's kind of—okay, completely—floored at what just happened, but it's Elena that might be dying in her living room and she makes the executive decision to put everything not related to fixing her best friend out of her brain.

Sam is chanting something in ancient Greek over a _World's Best Mom_ mug while Dean stands in front of the sofa, hard worry etched on his face. Elena is paler than anyone Caroline's ever seen before and she sinks down on the couch next to her, gently coaxing Elena's head into her lap. "We'll fix it," she promises, brushing long brown strands of hair away from her friend's forehead.

"I know," Elena says raggedly, eyes drifting shut.

Caroline looks up and meets Sam's eyes. "Vampire blood?"

Sam shakes his head. "No good. Whatever this is, it isn't natural." At her start of confusion, he explains, "Vampire blood can heal things that happen in nature—it doesn't matter if something supernatural breaks my leg because broken legs are natural occurrences."

"Coughing up blood happens," Caroline protests and Dean says bleakly, "In illnesses. Not in perfectly healthy eighteen-year-olds. Nothing's _wrong_, Caroline—there's nothing to heal. Besides, do you think she could even keep it down?"

"So she got tuberculosis! That happens in nature!" Caroline desperately grasps at all the straws she can think of. "Where's Bonnie? We need Bonnie!"

"No," Castiel says calmly from the corner of the room. They all turn towards him, Caroline with wide, desperate eyes.

He is staring at Elena with a grave expression, his lips pursed. "Any ideas, Wings?" Dean says and Castiel turns solemn eyes on him.

"The Horsemen," he says darkly. "This is Pestilence."

… … … …

The plan—which, for the record, Caroline is one hundred percent against because it's _stupid_—hinges on getting in touch with Death. Again. And even though summoning freaking Joe Black went _so_ _well_ last time, apparently everyone decided it was the only option this time around too. Also for the record, she is of the solitary opinion that Sam is a moron for even suggesting it (she won't even get into her idiotic friends who agreed to it); and she totally reserves the right to say _I told you so_ as many times as she wants when it totally fails. If Death doesn't go rogue and kill all of them, that is.

But Elena is curled into the fetal position on the sofa and she's been asleep for hours now. Long enough that Caroline is spiraling into worst-case scenarios and not even the healing herbs Bonnie is burning are calming her down. Long enough that Stefan's eyes haven't moved from the rise and fall of Elena's chest in a good forty-five minutes. And long enough that Damon has been pacing up and down the entryway like a caged animal. Castiel has disappeared, hopefully—please, God in heaven who might hear vampire prayers—to get backup in the form of Anna.

"What if Death just laughs in our faces?" Caroline whispers to Bonnie worriedly and Bonnie's eyebrows slant together.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Bonnie says firmly, her green eyes flickering over to Elena's still form.

Sam's chanting slows down and the electricity dims with a low hum. Bonnie and Caroline exchange a nervous look and the blood starts roaring in Caroline's ears. Her muscles tense in anticipation.

But it isn't Death that shows up.

It isn't even Pestilence.

It's Matt.

… … … …

Or rather, it's Michael and oh _God_ he does not look good.

The bones in his face look like they are trying to break through the skin, with scabs flaking, bleeding and peeling around the sharp edges of his cheeks and chin. He's lost so much weight that his eyes—those eyes that Caroline could have spent hours staring into, once upon a time—look sunken into their sockets and there's nearly nothing of Matt Donovan left in them. Which she thinks might be better than the alternative because at least there's no mistaking Michael for Matt any more.

Her insides feel like lead and one swift look in Dean's direction only confirms her worst fears. He's frozen, a look of quiet horror on his face; Sam's eyes are narrowed and he steps in front of Dean, completely blocking him from Michael's view.

"I think you know what can stop this," Michael says in a raspy imitation of Matt's voice and it looks like the act takes some effort on his part. "Dean."

It's an answer and acknowledgement, but no one moves. No one even blinks.

"Hey assbutt!" Castiel yells from out of nowhere, and they all turn as one.

The angel-banishing sigil is carved into his chest and Castiel gives Michael the patented Dean Winchester _game on, bitch_ face that Caroline knows so well and slams his bleeding hand—his human vessel's hand, she thinks with a wave of sickness washing over her—onto the sigil. The thunderous crack roars through the house and in an instant, Castiel and Michael are both gone.

The silence is deafening until the panic in Caroline wells up to the brim and spills over.

"What just _happened_?" she cries desperately, looking wildly around at equally shocked and blank faces. "Did he—is he—Sam?"

Before Sam can answer (his stricken face says it all anyway and Caroline thinks she might pass out), Elena pushes herself up onto her elbows and gives a tiny dry cough. When both Salvatores make as though to hover, Bonnie shoots them both glares before turning her full attention to Elena. Damon rolls his eyes at her back.

"How do you feel?" Bonnie asks gently.

Elena shrugs and rubs at her eyes. "Fine. Exhausted, but fine. What's going on?" she wants to know, her gaze sweeping over them. All of her color has returned and except for her chapped lips and the dark circles underneath her eyes, she looks perfectly healthy.

"Michael," Dean says flatly. "Michael happened."

… … … …

Alaric comes by, Jeremy in tow, to get Elena; Sam tells him in a low voice that Caroline can hear all too clearly that what they had concluded was Pestilence was actually Michael, and yeah, he can totally tear up your insides with nary a raised eyebrow.

"We're sitting ducks," Bonnie says flatly, elbows resting on her knees. "Whatever Invisibility Cloak Castiel gave us is useless because Michael knows where we live. He knows where we live and he knows we can't leave because we're not going to stop fighting him." Her head drops into the palms of her hands. "We're trapped."

Dean, who hasn't spoken since Elena left, says tonelessly, "I'm saying yes."

And seriously, after basically seeing Castiel _die_ in front of her, Caroline had really thought nothing could penetrate the shroud of numbness that had settled inside of her.

_Of course_, she thinks bitterly, _it can always get worse._ She raises her head to look at Dean, and whatever he sees on her face makes him sigh and say, "Care—"

"_Don't_," she says hoarsely, staring unblinking at him. "He knew. C-Castiel figured out it was Michael and he—just don't, Dean." She knows what he'll say, can hear his voice in her mind: _please understand this, there's no other way; don't hate me forever._ And she can't promise any of it right now. Not after watching an angel—their friend, _her_ friend—sacrifice himself for them.

She's starting to wonder if it's even worth it.

… … … …

Somehow Caroline ends up at a church. Her feet just kind of go where they will, and she follows without any conviction whatsoever.

She stares at the closed doors without much feeling. After Sam left for Stanford (and John left to literally chase his demons and Dean left to bounce aimlessly around the country) she and Liz had stopped going to church. Not that Liz had ever been a big fan—Caroline's grandparents had been the main factor in the Forbes' perfect church attendance record. And after a while, she stopped believing in religion—then God, then anything at all.

But she still hesitates at the doorway because if she's seen this movie once, she's seen it a thousand times and she's not totally positive she won't burst into flames or something.

"Balls to the wall, Forbes," she says, then immediately feels sheepish because did she seriously just curse on church property? Like she really needs to give whoever is up there _another_ reason to smite her where she stands. Whatever, they're all probably doomed anyway. So she squares her shoulders and walks inside with far more confidence than she actually feels.

Duh, nothing happens. But relief still makes her limbs sag a little and she sinks into a pew; it sighs and creaks as it adjusts to her weight.

There's a cross on the wall in the front of the church and she props her elbows up on the back of the pew, letting her chin fall into her palms as she stares at it.

"You kind of suck at your job, you know that?" she says to the cross, folding her arms across her chest. "Aren't you supposed to, you know, save people?"

There is only silence and all of the turmoil still swirling around inside of her threatens to bubble over. "Like, what was the point of even making people if you're just gonna let everything go to complete shit? _God_." She stops and swallows down a ball of tears hardening in her throat before choking out, "Why'd you pick my family to destroy? Are you even _real_?"

The only noise that breaks the stillness is the hum of the cicadas outside. She bites her lip and slides down to her knees, folding her hands in front of her. "Please, please, please let Cas be okay," she whispers, her eyes squeezing shut before hot tears can leak out.

She doesn't see a shadow in the corner move.

… … … …

The Motel 6 is barely a seven-minute drive from her house, so the next morning, she brings Adam a bowl of cereal, complete with milk and spoon.

"I don't like to cook," she says in greeting when he opens the door, rubbing at his eyes. He considers her and she knows she looks like hell warmed over. Her eyes were puffy when she woke up and her skin hasn't fully recovered from a night of crying and repeated nightmares; she has to concentrate to block the memory of maggots and worms squirming their way down her arms. "But it's the thought that counts, right?"

Adam smiles a little and opens the door a bit wider so that she can come inside. "I appreciate it," he says dryly and she smiles back at him as she sits in the only chair in the room.

"I kind of have an ulterior motive," she tells him and he looks up expectantly. "I wanted to see how you're holding up. With the whole—you know, with John being gone."

He chews thoughtfully and she picks at the newspaper sitting on the bedside table. "I'm not okay," he says finally, stirring the milk around absently. "But John—he was a twice a year kind of dad. A part timer, I guess." He shrugs. "But he was mine, you know?"

"Yeah," she says quietly, "I know."

… … … …

"I figured it out," Bonnie says flatly, leaning against Caroline's locker. At Caroline's questioning look, she elaborates, "The fire. I figured out how to make it big but still control it."

There's a _that's what she said_ joke in there somewhere but Caroline doesn't even have the energy, much less the good humor, to attempt it. "When's it happening?"

Bonnie glances around carefully, but no one is paying them any attention. "Day after tomorrow. Mayor Lockwood has to destroy a gas pipe first." Her eyes narrow over Caroline's shoulder and she says in a suddenly clipped tone, "I'll see you after school, okay? Boarding house."

Caroline blinks at the sudden change in demeanor. "Yeah, okay," she says, forehead wrinkling as Bonnie speeds away from her.

But then her skin prickles and all her instincts—vampire and human—flare in warning.

"You're going to be late for class," a deep, pleasant voice says from behind her. The hair on the back of her neck stands up as she turns.

It's the guy who had been walking with Alaric yesterday, the guy who isn't Death. He smiles at her, and she automatically returns it, but the unease in her gut won't stop swirling.

"Oh, no," she says with an admirable attempt at cheerfulness—she didn't get to be head cheerleader for nothing—and gestures to a nearby room. "My class is just right there." She can feel her smile turn brittle. "Thanks though."

Not-Death raises his eyebrows at her. "This sure is a strange little town," he comments nonchalantly and the red flags turn into giant flashing lights as her internal Sneakoscope goes wild. _Stranger Danger!_

"Sometimes," she acknowledges carefully, and something is tugging at the back of her mind—something important that she just _can't_ remember. "How long have you been in Mystic Falls?"

He isn't smiling at her anymore; he's baring his teeth and her fight-or-flight is screaming at her to get the hell away. _For God's sake, Caroline, he's just a substitute teacher, stop freaking out at every shadow—_

"My dear girl," he says and something falls into place, a piece of a puzzle that some part of her brain has been chewing on since before Elena got sick, "I've been here a very long time."

The bell rings and he vanishes into a classroom, leaving her alone in the empty, silent hallway.

… … … …

Caroline leaves.

Well, to be entirely accurate, she totally embarrasses herself and probably cements her image as a psycho freak by bursting into Bonnie's study hall and dragging her out, giving some bullshit excuse that her mouth offers while her brain freaks out, shrieking bloody murder. She thinks she hears herself say something about an algebra assignment.

"But you're both in Calculus," the study hall teacher stammers, but Caroline is long gone, Bonnie with her.

"You're scaring me, Caroline," Bonnie says in an unsteady voice and Caroline can barely hold her keys still to shove them desperately into the ignition.

"It wasn't Death that was with Alaric," she babbles, throwing the transmission into reverse and peeling out of her space, narrowly missing the white Lexus next to her. "It wasn't Death, but we've all been so on edge and fighting and thinking Pestilence was in town because Elena was sick, but he's not Pestilence, he's _why_ we're fighting—"

Bonnie's face is pale. "Slow down," she orders shakily and Caroline's car nearly takes flight as she pushes her foot down on the gas pedal. "What are you saying, Caroline?"

"I'm saying he's _War_!" Caroline's voice skyrockets in pitch and decibel; Bonnie starts to shiver uncontrollably. "He's _War_, Bonnie, and he's why Mr. Thompson killed his wife over their damn dinner and he's why I've been sniping with Dean and Sam and this whole time we were distracted because Matt—because Michael was after Elena but now War is _in our town._"

Other than the trembling that has taken over Bonnie's body, she is the picture of calm. "Take me to the witches' house," she says in a perfectly composed voice and Caroline floors it.

The candles are all lit when they get there. "You should go," Bonnie says lowly, her eyes focused on the flames. "Warn everyone."

"Warn them about what?" Caroline cries, but Bonnie is already lost in her trance and the few rays of sunlight piercing through the decayed wood start to sizzle on her skin. "Seriously?" she shouts as she blurs out into the woods surrounding the ruin, "I'm one of the good ones!"

But there is no answer and she probably totally proves herself to be a big fat liar when she runs to the Mikaelson mansion, abandoning her car in the forest with the keys in the gas cap for Bonnie to get home.

There are sirens in the distant when she arrives at Klaus's door, and she skids to a stop, her heart pounding a terrified tattoo. Sirens mean police and police mean _Liz_ and she knocks on the door so hard she puts a dent in the thick oak.

The look on Klaus's face is hard when he opens the door and she blurts out, "It's War. War is here and he's at the school and we have to do something right _now_—"

His expression darkens and he pulls her inside. "Start from the beginning, Caroline," he says firmly and it's almost steadying.

Almost.

"That would take too long," she snaps and a ray of amusement flashes across his face before it settles back into grimness, "War is here, Klaus, and he's at the school, and something's _happening_ that involves the police!" The _and my mom_ goes unsaid, but if she knows one thing about Klaus, it's that he picks up on the smallest details.

"I'll call Bekah," Elijah says quietly and her head whirls to the side as he disappears, cell phone in hand; she hadn't even noticed he was there.

The panic is welling up in her lungs and she can feel hyperventilation coming on—_come on, Forbes, think zen, think puppies and Sam and Dean and Downton Abbey_—and her breathing evens out slightly.

"It's all right, love," Klaus says softly and she realizes that if the worry on his face is any indication, she's got to look like a hot mess.

"It's War," Caroline repeats as everything drains out of her. "It's War and I think…I think Castiel might have—" she chokes on the word _died _and claps her hand to her mouth to prevent herself from saying it out loud. And something breaks inside of her.

Klaus is silent but he lets her cry into his shirt and he barely smells different from Sam or Dean so she stays there. She has hardly any tears, just great, racking dry sobs that shake her shoulders, and with each one, she feels the hand that's resting on her back tense like it's itching to do violence.

When she's composed herself enough to back away with her arms circled protectively around her middle, she says in a scratchy voice, "It was Ma—Michael. He hurt Elena because he wanted to show that he could. To get to Dean. And Cas banished him with that sigil, but it was h-hacked into his chest. He's _g-gone_," and she's done with words because putting them into the air makes the meaning behind them real.

Noiselessness stretches between them like a canyon until Klaus says gently, "Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me, and listen carefully." His fingers go under her chin to tilt her face upwards. "I've been around for a very long time and I've seen untold numbers of people collapse under less. And you—you have a beautiful future ahead of you, Caroline." He tucks a strand of errant hair behind her ear and there is the weight of a thousand years of existence behind his words. "This too shall pass."

And it's kind of cheesy, but she almost believes him—probably because he's basically ancient and speaking from an entire millennium of experience. It's easy to fall under his spell but she's nothing if not a realist.

Caroline doesn't believe him, but instead of arguing—instead of saying anything—she stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses him.

… … … …

**tbc.**

* * *

Hopefully this hit the spot.

**A/N:** In _Supernatural_ canon, Adam was born in 1990. I'm _**not**_ changing that, so here's a brief refresher of everyone's ages (_**in this fic**_): Dean is 26, Sam is 24, Adam is 20, and Caroline is 18.

Just an FYI—in canon SPN, John came into Adam's life when Adam was 12, which meant that Sam was 18 and had just left for college. However in this fic, if John met Adam at 12, that would put Sam at 16. The general consensus I've always heard (and believed myself) was that John sought Adam out because Sam had just left for Stanford. So I'm tweaking the timeline a smidge—we're going with John met Adam at 14.

Feel free to let me know if this is at all confusing. Fooling around with timelines is a little wonky sometimes. If you see any mistakes, please PM me so I can fix it—I'm a little rusty. :/

Also this is the longest chapter by far and it was incredibly difficult to churn out. I GAVE YOU GUYS OVER 11,000 WORDS. Drop me a review in return?

xx


	9. eight

**Disclaimer:** None of this is mine. Title is from Explosions in the Sky.

**A/N**: Still AU. Some graphic-y gore in this chapter. I have a sensitive stomach myself, so I tried to make it as un-gross as I could but tread carefully.

Many, many thanks to **dhfreak** over at tumblr for making a graphic for this story! I love it! (There is a link to the original on my profile, go check it out!)

Again, thanks for reading. I would love a review if you have the time.

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**8. **

The kiss is totally spontaneous and probably a really bad idea considering it's, you know, _the end of the world_. But it's somehow like a brief timeout from the complete nightmare of the past few weeks—hell, the past few years, if Caroline's being totally honest with herself. So she doesn't protest when Klaus takes over, his hands roaming restlessly down her sides. Amazingly, she's steady, her arms still as they rest on his shoulders. She's up against him and he's just so warm that all the reasons that this is a huge mistake just sort of dissolve in the back of her brain. She kind of lets all the thoughts in her head evaporate so that the world shrinks down to the simplest of all equations and the feeling of his stubble rubbing against her cheek.

But the sound of sirens breaks into her haze and she blinks her eyes open hazily, pulling away. "I have to call Dean," she stammers, backing up and avoiding looking at him directly as she roots in her bag for her phone. "You—you should probably check on Rebekah." _Check on the school_, she corrects herself silently, mentally ticking off the people she knows weren't there today. _Elena, Stefan, Jeremy_ and she had taken Bonnie out herself. But that leaves Tyler, and Alaric, and everyone else—people she's known since she was basically born, and she wishes fervently that Bonnie's pyrotechnic light show had started already. Her fingers shake as she taps over to her Favorites screen, wholly aware that Klaus's stony gaze is fixed on her.

Dean answers without a greeting. "Where are you?" he demands, his voice urgent enough to make her heart hammer in her chest. She exhales through her nose.

"Safe," she evades, still determinedly staring at the floor. "Dean, the school—"

"Already there," he says and she can hear the sound of the Impala's engine cutting off.

"I'll meet you—" she starts to say and two things happen simultaneously: Klaus's fingers wrap tightly around her free wrist, causing her eyes to fly up and meet his; and Dean says loudly, "Don't even think about it, Caroline."

Her eyes narrow at Klaus as she tries to tug her wrist free of his grip, but he's got, like, a thousand lifetimes on her so she rolls her eyes and gives up pretty quickly. "Dean—"

"Nope," he says and she bristles because she has yet to finish a complete sentence. "Wherever you are is safer than here, Care, so stay there. Got it?"

Caroline isn't entirely sure that's true; especially with the way Klaus is looking at her—like she's either something to be devoured or locked away in a tower for the rest of eternity. She's not entirely sure which is worse, but whatever; she so doesn't have time for this right now. "Dean, it's _War_," she rushes out and she hears the rustling in the background stutter to a halt. "That's who's at the school, so you better be freaking careful, okay?" Her heart pounds out a nervous tattoo against her sternum. "You have to watch out, okay, you have to stay calm!" She pauses and adds, her voice dropping, "Mom's there, Dean. You have to—just be safe, okay? Please."

Sam mumbles something in the background that she can't quite make out and Dean says slowly, "Okay. Stay where you are, Care, and I'll talk to you when it's done."

Her fingers clench down on the edges of her phone but before she can protest, Dean hangs up and she's left with silence.

"There's something you should see," Klaus says quietly, and before she can protest—before she can even blink, really—he tightens his already iron grip on her wrist and pulls her into the depths of the Mikaelson house.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" she sputters, finally yanking her hand free as his fingers loosen and the look he gives her—whatever, she doesn't really want to analyze it. "This is _kidnapping_."

"Don't be so dramatic, love," he drawls dismissively, and as Caroline draws herself away from him, her surroundings catch her eye. There's a sturdy, well-worn desk with thick parchment strewn messily across the surface, paintings adorning the walls, and a bed—

"Wait a second," she says and her voice pitches upward several octaves. "Are we seriously in your freaking _bedroom_ right now?"

For someone who just had his tongue in her mouth (for like, half a second, okay, and it totally won't be happening again, so she lets herself off the hook), he brushes her off without hesitation. "Hardly for the lascivious purposes you're currently imagining," Klaus says grimly, opening the doors to his wardrobe—because of course he has a wardrobe instead of a closet—and reaching inside.

Caroline's still sputtering like a fish in open air when he pulls out a long, wickedly curved blade. "Do you know what this is?" he asks her seriously and she blinks at him, because seriously, she cannot keep up with his mood swings. She would bet money that _he_ can't keep up with his mood swings.

"No," she grits out shortly, barely glancing at it and crossing her arms. She's weirdly not uncomfortable in here and it's freaking her out. "Enlighten me."

"Caroline," he says, and the gravity in his voice makes her arms tighten around herself. "This is a scythe."

She blinks, because _duh_ – that much she knows. She's not a total idiot. "Yeah I got that part…" she says slowly. "So what? You murdered the Ghost of Christmas Future. That's totally within your wheelhouse."

Klaus does not laugh, nor does he look the slightest bit amused, both of which scare her way more than the sharply curved blade in his hand. "Caroline," he repeats and the way he's saying her name only adds to the gnawing in her stomach. "Grim Reapers carry scythes."

Ice begins to harden in her ribcage. "I'm aware of that, thanks. So you killed a Reaper," she says faintly, trying to echo her bravado from only moments ago. "Shit happens."

His blue eyes are zeroed in on her and she takes a tiny involuntary step back, away from the intensity. "I didn't kill a Reaper," he says lowly and she feels a chill snake down her spine.

"Klaus," Caroline whispers, "Whose scythe is that?"

His gaze locks on hers and his voice doesn't change in volume, but somehow it feels like he's shouting at her. "Death's."

There's silence and a ringing in her ears, like the kind in movies after a bomb goes off right next to a character's head. She's completely frozen in place, her feet planted in the middle of the room as though they have sprouted roots and trapped her there.

"You're lying," she finally accuses weakly, but her voice cracks over the words and she can feel her chin trembling before she snaps her mouth shut. _Gotta get home right the fuck now._

"Caroline," Klaus says again, and she wishes he would stop saying her name, especially with that _look_ on his face: like he wants to wrap her in blankets and slay all her dragons for her. She can slay all her own goddamned dragons, thank you very much.

"You're _lying_," she repeats desperately, hands clenching into fists where her arms are still crossed—a barrier between them. "You...there's no way! You just want to be the _hero_—" She's completely backed herself into the wall, anger and fear crashing through her because how the hell does Death lose his own scythe? If he's that careless, he doesn't deserve to be _Death_. "How would you even know?"

Klaus shrugs, his eyes pinned on her. "A crossroads demon was loose with his tongue."

Caroline stares at the weapon, its blade gleaming silver in the bright sunlight pouring in from Klaus's window. The crumbling tome that had sat in front of her on the kitchen table flashes before her eyes. _The Blade of Death can End that which cannot be Killed._

"Klaus," she whispers, and before he can respond, she's in front of him, her hands on his face and his stubble prickling her palms. "Please, Klaus, you can't—you can't tell anyone, _please_." But she knows he will—she hasn't forgotten his words on Dean's fate as Michael's vessel, and she can't bury Dean again. _Not again._ "I—I'll do anything, Klaus, Paris, Rome, freaking Baghdad, _anything_. Wherever you want, I'll go, just—" She fights to keep hysterics at bay and it's a battle she's very clearly losing.

His eyes are burning blue flames and there's a long, familiar pull in the bottom of her stomach. "You can't tell anyone," Caroline says again, the edges of unshed tears scraping at her throat. "Dean...he'll die and I—" she cuts herself off when she realizes that she's totally crying and immediately lets go of his face to wipe her own. When she tries to take a step back, he's an immovable force that doesn't let her. His lips brush her forehead and the muscles of his arms move against her shoulder blades.

"It's all right, love," Klaus says softly, almost gently; and a tiny, morbid part of her thinks he could reel in anyone he wanted like that. "Sweetheart, it will be all right."

… … …

Her car is parked neatly in the middle of her driveway when she gets home, with a note from Bonnie stuck under a wiper blade— _It's okay_, the crinkled notebook paper reads. Caroline stares numbly down at it before crumpling it up and dropping it in the garbage can. _Nothing is okay._

The house is quiet as she drops her keys on the small table by the door with a clatter. Her head is fuzzy and there's an unread text message on her phone, but all she wants at this moment is to crawl into her shower and pretend it's all a bad dream.

The water is nearly scalding but Caroline still shivers and stands beneath it until her skin is red and wrinkled.

She's padding into the kitchen in her sweats and socked feet when Adam says, "Hey," from the couch. It makes her jump at least six feet in the air, her hand flying to her chest.

"Jesus God," she mumbles, pushing her wet hair out of her face as her breathing steadies. "Don't _do_ that."

"Sorry," he says, eying her curiously. "You okay? You look…" he trails off and both of her eyebrows rise because _yes, Adam, tell me how awful I look right now_. "Freaked," Adam finishes cautiously. "You look freaked out."

She exhales. "Oh. Yeah, just a—a scare, I guess." His eyes are fixed on her and she fidgets a little under the scrutiny.

"Can I ask you something?" he wants to know, leaning against the couch with folded arms.

"Um," Caroline shrugs and toes a crack in the wood floor. "Yeah. Sure."

He's quiet for a second and it's on the tip of her tongue to tell him to just spit it out when he does just that. "You guys never told me how D—how John died." His voice is hesitant, careful.

"Uh," Caroline says, wincing a little. "It was, um...a car accident." And technically, she reminds herself as Adam looks down, that's the truth.

"Oh," Adam says doubtfully and she wishes suddenly that he had asked Sam instead of her.

"I'm sorry," she offers lamely, fully aware at just how little those words help. "Do you want—maybe some tea?" She could use a little spiked tea herself, so she doesn't wait for his answer, flipping the stove on and filling the kettle with water.

Adam considers her and when she turns to switch the faucet off, she can feel his eyes still on her. It makes her vaguely uncomfortable, but come _on_—she just put imagery to his dad's death. He gets a pass.

"You're sure it was a car wreck?" he asks, standing and reaching for the mug on the counter.

Caroline shrugs and watches the teapot. "I mean, I wasn't there," she tells him, crossing her arms as she stares down at the stove. "But the Impala was a mess and Sam and Dean both went to the hospital."

"Still," Adam says and he's at her elbow and the fine hair on the back of her neck tingles a little as it stands at attention. "Are you sure it wasn't something else?"

"Like what?" she prompts. _Please don't say demons, please don't say demons—_

"Something supernatural," he says, and panic starts to bloom in her stomach. _Same difference. _

"No such thing," she manages to say weakly and Adam shakes his head.

"Come on, Caroline," he says and his voice is hard. "Aren't you a vampire?"

She barely has time to gape at him before the world goes black.

… … …

The first thing Caroline feels is dust tickling at her nose.

The second is white-hot, searing pain.

There are flames of it wrapping themselves around her wrists and when she tries to move her hands away from the source, she realizes with sinking desperation that she's shackled to something.

"Wouldn't do that," Adam says casually from somewhere across the room; she forces her eyes to focus.

"You're not Adam," she accuses hoarsely, and the Adam thing laughs at her.

"Bravo," he says sardonically as he squats down next to her. "You actually weren't my first choice, Caroline." He eyes the charred skin of her wrists. "But I'll make do."

"First choice for _what_?" she snaps, pulling against the metal and instantly regretting it as the smell of burning flesh intensifies and black dots her vision. "What _are_ you?"

"Well," Adam says easily, moving into a sitting position on the floor next to her—a cursory glace around tells her they're in the Fell tomb, because of _fucking course_—and partly rips her shirt. _Oh God, oh God_ she thinks, panic fully swirling and he rolls his eyes.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," he scolds lightly and she barely has time to process that as his finger digs into her side, breaking through the skin and _not stopping_. She bites down on the inside of her cheeks so hard she tastes blood because fuck giving this monster the satisfaction.

"It doesn't matter," he says idly, drawing his finger out. It's covered in her blood and the light bulb goes on when he licks it away.

"_Ghoul_," she spits out, her siding stitching itself together. Adam smiles almost proudly.

"Very good," he encourages cheerfully and she bites back a moan of pain as he slices into her again.

"Thought ghouls only ate corpses," she grits out, focusing on the hole in her sock and not the horrible burning snaking around her wrists.

Adam shrugs and she tries not to gag at the sight of her skin in his fingers. "We prefer the truly dead," he tells her, taking a moment to savor it and she squeezes her eyes shut briefly. "But I'll let you in on a little secret." He leans in as though they're best girlfriends whispering about crushes on boys and she resists the urge to spit in his face. "Vampires are walking corpses." He grins at her and her stomach rolls. "And they have the bonus effect of regeneration. A never-ending feast, if you will."

Her side is going numb. "Why us? Why my family?" she manages to ask through her clenched jaw.

All the humor leaves his face and a new frisson of fear shoots through her.

"Because," the Adam ghoul hisses at her, blood in his teeth, "John Winchester killed _my_ family."

The pain in her side explodes and she can't hold back the screaming anymore.

… … …

It takes a while for her side to stop healing, but stop it does. Caroline really doesn't want to think what that indicates about how long she's been down here. She can't feel her arms or her ass and every time she breathes, she inhales more dust.

She remembers from Katherine's too-short stint in the tomb that desiccation doesn't actually take that long—a few days without blood at the most. But her muscles are stiff and it takes way more energy than she actually has to move. Desiccation is the only explanation she can thing of and a single dart of her eyes the ground next to her confirm that her blood is pooled around her, tendrils of it slowly inching away. _I am going to die here_. _I'm going to die on this nasty, filthy floor in my sweatpants. _

_Shit_, she really hopes Castiel was right about God.

"I wonder if any of them will notice you're missing," the not-Adam ghoul muses, fingers rattling against his knees as he sits on top of one of the stone slabs. "Or maybe they're all too distracted with the Apocalypse." He grins at her. "I couldn't have asked for more perfect timing. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Maybe you should die in a fire," she retorts, forcing her jaw to move. Not her best comeback, but whatever; the fact that she hasn't passed out yet makes her feel like she's fucking Athena or something.

"You know," he says thoughtfully, tilting his head at her, but his next words are lost as the door to the Fell tomb slams open.

"Back the _fuck_ away," Dean snarls and Sam leans down next to her, his fingers on her forehead. She blinks up at him, vision blurring and he says quietly, "I've got you."

… … …

She sleeps for twelve hours straight and wakes up only because Sam makes her.

"You gotta eat," he says sternly, handing her a blood bag as she rubs her eyelids open.

"Thanks," Caroline mumbles, and Sam sits on her bed, eyeing her as though she's about to shatter. She curls her knees up to her chest. "How did you find me?"

Sam shrugs. "Elena came to the house to talk to you and saw the teapot boiling over." He pauses before adding sheepishly, "Stefan helped—he could smell it. Could smell—you know." He gestures at her aimlessly and yeah, she knows. "You were in pretty bad shape, Care." There's a hardness to his voice that makes her hug her knees tighter. She can only imagine the mess she had looked—sitting in a pool of her own blood, probably with guts hanging out of one side and wrists burned down to the bone. The urge to throw up is almost overwhelming.

"Is Adam dead?" she asks in a small voice. "Real Adam, I mean."

"Probably," Sam says flatly as she sets the now-empty bag on her nightstand. Her stomach twists.

"Did it kill him?" Her heart has dropped through the floor and only sinks further when Sam repeats himself, "Probably." She doesn't continue her line of questioning, mostly because it's fairly obvious that the ghoul thing killed Adam's mom too. Probably.

Caroline rolls out of bed and follows Sam silently down the hall. Her side has long healed but she still feels sharp phantom pains and her hand goes unconsciously to rest where the Adam-thing had — she shudders.

"What happened at the school?" she questions, fingers jittering over the bowl on the hall table where the Impala's keys rest. "Did anyone...is everyone—?"

"Fights, mostly," Sam assures her as he pulls books out of the bag on the floor. "A few kids are in the hospital but nothing more serious than a concussion, maybe some broken bones." He sees the question on her face before she has time to voice it and adds gently, "Your mom is fine, Care. She's filling out paperwork at the station."

Relief, warm and bright, floods through her and Caroline lets herself sag against the wall for a second. "Good," she says quietly, and when Sam opens the first of the thick, dusty books on their table, she tiptoes out of the kitchen.

Caroline finds her bloody clothing in the laundry room, which doesn't really surprise her, despite the rips and tears. What does surprise her is the sight of Dean scrubbing feverishly at the stains, his face pinched in determination. His knuckles are completely white.

"It would be easier to throw them away," she says quietly from the door, arms folded over her chest. He barely pauses at the sound of her voice.

"You like this shirt," he says flatly and she shrugs because seriously, it's _just a shirt._ A shirt with a giant rip up the side that was made while she was being tortured, nonetheless, so she's not exactly keen to wear it, like, _ever_ again. It's last season anyway, so no tears on her end.

The determined scrubbing continues and the desperation on his face stings at her heart. She rushes over to him and covers his hands with her own. "Dean," Caroline whispers and his hands turn into fists underneath her own. "It's okay."

He shakes his head and pulls away. "It's not though," he says lowly and she hates the look on his face, like everything's falling apart around him. And yeah, it totally is, but—

"It's okay," she says again, and she hugs him—wraps her arms around his middle and lays her head on his chest, listening to his heart's steady rhythm. "_I'm_ okay."

He stays stiff for a few seconds before she feels him relax, his cheek dropping to rest on the top of her head. Caroline hears him inhale like he's about to speak but the home phone starts ringing shrilly before he can get his words out.

For a few seconds Dean doesn't move; but then he kisses the top of her head and goes to where Sam is now speaking in low tones. She is still for a moment as well, then picks up her bloodied clothes and throws them in the garbage.

"Care!" Sam shouts and all of her spidey senses go on high alert because his voice is way too high pitched for everything to be okay. Caroline flashes into the kitchen, gripping the counter so hard a piece of it crumbles to the floor. "What?"

Dean is already shrugging on his leather jacket as Sam says, his face pale, "That was Meredith Fell. From the hospital."

She stares in confusion. "Why is Dr. Fell calling us?" A million scenarios start racing through her mind before they are eclipsed by her mother's face. Caroline's face drains of all color. _Please, please, please God don't—_

"Move your asses!" Dean yells from the doorway impatiently and Sam says in her ear, "I think...I think it might be Cas."

… … …

It is, but it also kind of isn't.

"There is nothing wrong with me," Castiel growls at Meredith Fell, who rolls her eyes at Caroline as she removes an IV. Caroline watches as the tiny hole vanishes and immediately looks up to see if Dr. Fell saw it. No, Dean's got her completely distracted.

"He's fine," Meredith says dubiously, turning to face the rest of them. "He _shouldn't _be fine, considering he showed up naked in the lobby, covered in blood and not knowing his own name." She looks down at her clipboard and scrawls something on a sheet of paper before handing it to Sam. "But somehow in the same amount of time it took for me to call you and for you to get here, he's completely healed." She crosses her arms and the look on her face makes Caroline shift uncomfortably. Meredith totally knows something. "You're free to go."

"What in the _hell_ happened to you?" Dean snaps as soon as the door shuts with a soft _click_. "We thought you were dead!"

Castiel blinks very slowly but doesn't react as though this information is either new or surprising. "I don't know," he says and he holds up his wrist to inspect the hospital bracelet. "Who is John Doe?"

"Don't worry about it," Sam says, handing him a neatly folded stack of clothes. "Get dressed and we'll go."

Castiel looks down at the hospital gown and Caroline says before he can ask, "That doesn't count as clothing."

… … …

"So what do you mean, you don't know what happened to you?" Dean demands almost as soon as they're inside the house.

Castiel isn't short – or technically, the guy he's vesseling isn't short –but Sam's clothes hang off of him almost comically and Caroline is pretty sure Dean planned it that way.

"I mean," Cas says slowly, as though he's explaining physics to a five-year old, "I don't know."

She actually groans aloud because seriously, this is going to go around and around in a giant circle and nobody has the time for it. "Castiel," she interrupts sharply, "Do you remember anything about what happened after you –" Her bravado falters away because she can still see it in her mind—blinding light and then _nothing_. "We thought you were dead," she says needlessly, and her voice shakes slightly.

Castiel looks at her as though he can see into her brain; some of the old fear stirs in her chest and she shifts uncomfortably. "I was not dead," he says quietly. His eyes pass over each of them, studying them; Caroline almost feels like she's being sized up.

But they must pass whatever test is running through Castiel's angel brain because he sighs and says, "I think I was with God."

Caroline and Sam both freeze but Dean snorts and says derisively, "Must've been some fever dream."

Castiel shoots him a look. "It was no dream."

"God?" Sam repeats, a note of excitement humming in his voice. Caroline just feels as though someone dunked her head in a bucket of ice water.

Castiel nods, his hand going to the back of his neck; but before he can say anymore, Dean cuts in, "Okay, except there's no such thing as God. Give the wheel another spin and maybe buy some vowels this time."

"You make no sense sometimes," Sam mumbles, his eyes still bright with interest and Castiel continues as though neither of them had spoken.

"I don't remember anything," he says seriously and Dean snorts again, but doesn't interrupt. "But I know it was Him."

Sam is looking on interestedly. "What was God like?" he wants to know and Dean rolls his eyes, but doesn't say anything. Castiel's face acquires a far away look.

"I don't know," he says honestly. "There was only warmth."

"Sure you were on the right end of Heaven and Hell?" Dean snarks and Caroline winces.

"Don't talk like that," she chastises softly and he flashes her a guilty smile. She turns to Castiel and asks, "Does that mean you're an archangel now?"

"No," he says immediately. "I am not."

She wants to ask him how he knows, but Castiel isn't finished. "I could have stayed," he tells them quietly, the look in his eyes becoming distant. "The offer was made."

The three of them stare at him and there's a lump in Caroline's throat. "You came back for us," Sam says slowly, exchanging a glance with Dean that Caroline can't decipher.

Castiel blinks slowly. "I came back for cheeseburgers," he corrects gravely and the somber mood is broken when Dean laughs, clapping Castiel on the shoulder.

"Look who's got jokes," he says approvingly before wandering out of the living room. Sam swoops down next to Castiel and starts peppering him with questions about God and Heaven and the Other Side.

That's when Caroline excuses herself. She really doesn't want to debate the possibilities of All Vampires Go to Heaven right this second (or, you know, ever). She just wants to go to bed. Her hand comes up to rest on her side as she moves down the hall.

Longest few days _ever_.

… … …

It's 3:17 in the morning when there's a knock at the door.

Caroline sits straight up in her bed, sleep falling away almost instantly as her heart picks up speed. Her eyes narrow on the empty driveway plainly visible from her window as her brain rapidly recounts the exact whereabouts of her entire family. Liz is definitely still at the sheriff's station, Sam and Dean are probably prowling around looking for trouble, she's sure; and Castiel is off doing _literally_ only God knows what.

"Calm yourself, Forbes," she whispers, tugging on the fuzzy pink socks she had haphazardly toed off hours earlier in her desperation to curl under her covers. She tightens the drawstring on her pajama pants because they're starting to droop around her hips and if she's about to have to square off with some apocalyptic-bent asshole, she'd rather not have to worry about her clothes falling off. Seriously, she has no idea how Buffy fought entire vampire armies in cute outfits and perfect hair.

There's another, more insistent knock and Caroline grabs the first weapon in her line of sight as she heads towards the door. _Please be Elena_, she thinks with more than a little desperation, even though she knows Elena is way more than likely fast asleep at her own house.

Still keeping her distance from the door, she peers cautiously through the blurred glass. Dark blonde hair, hands folded behind his back—she groans and opens the door with a glare. Her heart is still hammering against her ribs and she pretends he can't hear it for her own comfort.

"What?" she demands and her skin prickles as Klaus's eyes rake over her. He nods towards the hand at her side as he sweeps inside without waiting for an invitation. She scowls at him.

"Ready to attack the avenging firewood, sweetheart?"

She has no idea what she even grabbed so when she looks down at her hand and realizes it's a fire poker, she has the strongest urge to impale him on it. Instead, she rolls her eyes and drops it onto the coffee table across from where he's now making himself comfortable.

"It's three in the morning," Caroline informs him coolly, crossing her arms and giving him her best Blair Waldorf, give-no-fucks glare. He smiles at her, but it's more a baring of teeth that makes the hair on her arms stand up. "What are you doing here?"

He's still wearing that kind of—okay, totally—terrifying smirk and she thinks maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to let go of the poker.

"It would seem," he says, his voice entirely too casual, "that Death's scythe is missing."

Her heart skips beat and she thinks it might actually stop. "You _lost_ it?" she whispers, staggering backwards slightly. "You lost the only thing that can – oh my _God_."

Klaus is watching her with this way too intense look in his eyes, like he's trying to decide something and she has no idea what the hell it's about. "Bravo," he says finally and she's heard this tone to his voice before. Just never directed _at her_. It makes her fight-or-flight instinct come raring in at full force: _run, run, run_. "Very convincing, Caroline."

She stares at him in open confusion. "You're a crazy person," she says faintly. "What are you even _saying_?"

He's on his feet in the blink of an eye and Caroline starts to consider her exit strategy. "That which cannot be killed," he says slowly, circling her; she tries to turn with him as he does, but her socks catch on the rug and she trips a little before catching herself.

"Right," she says, a little desperately because there's a feral look on his face that makes all the muscles in her body tense. Adrenaline starts to kick up in her veins. "Michael. We're gonna use it to kill Michael."

"And after that?" he challenges. That gives her pause because she hasn't exactly thought about after. It's almost too optimistic to imagine _after_ and even as it starts to form in her mind's eye, she slams the door shut on it.

"There is no _after that_," she tells him, her own temper starting to flare – and then it hits her like a ton of bricks and she stops short. "Wait. _That's_ what this is about?" She can't help it—she gapes at him because holy self-absorbed, Batman. "You think we're gonna try to kill you with it?"

"Award-winning performance, love," he says with faux-idleness and for a moment, they both stare at each other in total silence.

Then she lunges for the fire poker; but he's so fast it makes her head spin and when it finally stops, her back is pressed against the wall. His hands are wrapped around her wrists – not so tightly that it hurts but tight enough that she has zero wiggle room. Gritting her teeth, she aims a swift jerk of her knee to the Original family jewels. His eyes darken and he pins his hips against hers, effectively rendering her entire lower half useless.

"Quite the young ingénue you are," he says mockingly and she _hates_ him (but she especially hates herself for forgetting what he's capable of just because of a few secret kisses and a pretty drawing).

"What is your _damage_?" she snaps at him, struggling in vain against his grip. "Do you think I stole your stupid–" His fingers press down and she cuts herself off, glaring at him.

"I think you know where it is," Klaus says easily, as though he's telling her she might need an umbrella later today. "And I think you're going to tell me."

Her eyes widen and she says quickly, "I'm on vervain." It's kind of a lie though because she can't actually remember the last time she thought to sprinkle it in her tea. _Stupid, stupid Caroline, letting your guard down. _"Klaus, please! I don't know anything about it!" His eyes soften for a half-second but before she can grab at that, it's gone. "Besides, don't you think we're all little bit, you know, _preoccupied_ to think about offing you? How arrogant are you?"

His eyes are nearly black and his pupils dilate as he says lowly, "Tell me where you were yesterday afternoon."

Her eyes squeeze shut as the words tumble out, her free will slipping through her fingers like sand. "The Fell tomb."

She hadn't thought his voice could get any lower but it does. She can feel it rumbling out of his chest. "And what were you doing there, Caroline?"

Oh, she _hates_ him for making her relive this and she opens her eyes to stare at him in absolute loathing. Her breathing is ragged. "A ghoul," she spits out at him and his eyebrows furrow together. Her head suddenly feels too heavy for her neck as her voice follows his orders, continuing, "It took me there to die." And because she's technically answered his question, her mouth snaps shut. She absolutely _refuses_ to give him more than he demanded. Her brain ticks off a list of people who have taken her free will—_Damon, Tyler, Klaus_ and she wants to aim for his junk again so badly her knee twitches against his thigh.

Klaus lets go of her almost instantaneously, as though she burned him; it's so sudden that she inhales in surprise before her back slumps against the wall, all energy slipping away from her. "You're a dick," she says flatly, her fists clenched weakly at her sides and her knees shaking. She's so, _so_ goddamned stupid—did Damon teach her nothing? A handsome face and some pretty words do not a good person make. "Get out."

There's silence and when she blinks, she's alone.

… … …

It takes her a long time to fall back asleep after that, but when she does, she dreams that she's human again—human and weak and Damon's chew toy. She's completely mesmerized, frozen in horror, as all the scenes that have haunted her worst nightmares play on a loop in her mind.

_Are you going to kill me?_ she asks him. They're on her bed and he's on top of her, the sheets rumpled. There are teeth marks on her shoulder blade. Damon shrugs a little, reaching up to wrap a piece of her hair around his finger. _Eventually_, he says easily, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Her eyes fly open, her breath coming in short spurts. She sits straight up in her bed and stares at herself in the mirror on her dresser.

She refuses to be that girl again.

… … …

"What's with you?" Dean asks through a mouthful of blueberry Pop-Tarts. Caroline wrinkles her nose as crumbs fly onto the table.

"Say it, don't spray it," she mumbles, rubbing at her eyes and trying to ignore just how badly she wants a shower. She pulls her hair into a messy knot at the base of her neck. "'M fine. Just some bad dreams." At Dean's suddenly alert expression she adds hastily, "Not doomsday-related. Run of the mill nightmares."

Dean eyes her like he doesn't believe her, but she's saved by her phone ringing. The caller ID flashes _Stefan_.

"You okay?" he asks first, and she feels a rush of warmth at the question.

"Yeah. Thanks, I'm told, to you. In a big way." She pauses. "You keep saving my life, Stefan."

He dismisses it easily. "Don't mention it. Come over," he says seriously and she groans. "Care, it's important."

"It always is," she points out, rolling her eyes at reflection in the kitchen window. The school is closed indefinitely while the sheriff's department investigates what caused half the student body to snap on the other half. Caroline thinks it's pretty clever of her mom: shut down the schools and people are way more likely to peace out when Bonnie's burning blaze of death comes sweeping in.

"I'm serious," he tells her and she laughs a little.

"Must be Tuesday, then."

Dean's still looking at her like he expects her to break down at any minute and she says as she heads out the door, "I'll call you if anything happens."

Caroline stops short when she sees a rose, deeply red and just blooming, resting gently on the driver's seat of her car. Because first of all, her car was _locked_ all night; and second, it's so very _Fatal Attraction_. Which, okay, that's probably the perfect subtitle to her life, but that doesn't mean she's still not totally creeped out.

Besides, it's going to take a lot more than a stupid flower that some poor hybrid was probably forced to buy for her to forgive him.

She gives it to Elena when her friend opens the door to the boarding house. "For saving my life," she says brightly and Elena gives her a smile that lights up her whole face.

"What are friends for?" Elena says, pressing her nose into the petals. "How are you, Care?"

Caroline shrugs and doesn't answer as she slides through the doorway.

Bonnie is sitting in the middle of the Salvatore living room, green eyes focused on the crackling fire in the fireplace. "It's ready," she says quietly, breaking her intense gaze to look over at Caroline. "We can get everyone out of town now." Bonnie uncrosses her legs and pulls Caroline aside. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispers in her ear before slipping into the kitchen.

Caroline meets Elena's eyes. "Castiel?" she asks, motioning towards the fire. Elena shakes her head.

"The witches," she corrects and Damon snorts from the bottom of the stairs. Neither of them look at him and Elena continues, "Apparently they've decided to step in after everything with War."

"Witches," Damon says disgustedly and Elena rolls her eyes at Caroline.

She ignores both of them and calls Dean.

"Yo amateur hour," he says when he walks in fifteen minute later; Sam rolls his eyes behind Dean's back. "What's up? Got us a blaze, Little Miss Fire Starter?"

"Ready," Bonnie confirms, half-sitting on the edge of the couch. "When do you want to start?"

… … …

"_Furthermore, I would advise all residents of Mystic Falls to evacuate to the surrounding counties, who have graciously offered to open their doors…_"

"Your mom gives good bullshit," Dean remarks and Tyler shrugs, his eyes not leaving the television screen.

"Must be genetic," Damon says tartly, but no one responds.

"Nice work, Bonnie," Dean says approvingly from the window. Caroline untangles her legs from her current pretzel position and joins him at the glass pane.

It _is_ impressive. The flames are massive and angry as they lick their way up the forest trees and Caroline is suddenly very glad that she has never pissed off a witch.

"Keep those fireballs away from my car, Bonnie," Dean suddenly warns and Bonnie rolls her eyes at him. "I'm serious, Bennett – anything happens to it and I won't be responsible for my actions."

Caroline snickers despite knowing that Dean's definitely not kidding. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Stefan tilt his head towards the hallway oh-so-subtly and she raises her eyebrows slightly in response. When he nods –a barely there jerk of his chin – she squeezes Dean's arm and says softly, "I'm gonna call Mom really quick." He nods, distracted by the towering flames.

Stefan has already disappeared up the stairs and she wrinkles her nose when she realizes he's gone into Damon's room.

"Why'd you come in _here_?" she demands, making a face at the ornate wooden bed frame. Stefan ignores her petulance and swings Damon's wardrobe open, and seriously what is _with_ these old dudes and their disdain for closets?

But the question vanishes from her mind when Stefan pulls out a wickedly curved crescent-moon blade.

_No, no, no, no…_

"Do you know what this is?" he asks her, hazel eyes intent on her face. It's exactly what Klaus had asked her and she might actually vomit because everyone wants to use that thing on her brother.

Caroline swallows hard, totally unsure of what to do or what to say – so she plays dumb.

"No," she whispers, shaking her head slowly, eyes never leaving the smooth silver surface. "Is it – is it Damon's?"

Stefan searches her face before he says, "No, it's not Damon's. He—"

"—stole it," Damon drawls from the doorway, eying them with heavy dislike. "Finders keepers, losers weepers."

"From a reaper?" Caroline asks lamely and Damon rolls his eyes at her.

"No, Barbie," he says disdainfully. "From your boyfriend. Big Daddy Hybrid." His ice-blue eyes glint at her. "Been wondering something, by the way—does he make you call him that in bed?" He leers at her and she reels backwards. "Seems like something an egotistical perv with bad taste would do."

"Damon," Stefan says sharply as Caroline flinches. "Shut up."

"Just making conversation, Stef," Damon says with an easy shrug. "And don't pretend like you didn't know about that fine piece of weaponry, Care-bear." The look he shoots her is full of disgust and she wants to ream him with the stupid scythe because he is so not one to judge.

"I'm not apologizing," she snaps, temper flaring. "Don't even pretend like you wouldn't screw us all over to save each other."

Damon ignores her. "Know what they say about laying down with dogs, Barbie," he says scornfully, blue eyes flickering down her legs and back up again.

"And yet amazingly I only got fleas from you," she shoots back and Stefan snorts. "You're not using that thing on Dean."

"Fine," Damon shrugs. "I'll use it on Matt."

Caroline chokes and a voice from the hallway cries out, "_What?_"

Elena storms in, brown eyes flashing and Damon actually takes a step back as she hits him in chest, the biting laughter gone from his face. "You will _not_!"

"Elena," Stefan tries to intercede, making as though to grab her elbow; she hits him too.

"That is our _friend_," she hisses at them and Caroline shoots Damon a triumphant glare. "You know what your problem is, Damon?" Elena doesn't wait for him to answer before she smacks him in the chest again with her small, ineffective fist. "You think we're all disposable because we're human." She shoots a pointed look at Caroline, who stops glaring daggers at Damon to become very interested in the floor, face flushing.

Elena holds out her hand. "Give it to me," she orders, and if looks could kill – and Caroline still isn't sure they _can't_ – Damon and Stefan would both be piles of dust where they stand.

"Elena," Stefan says again, and Elena steps forward, yanking the scythe away from him. She takes Caroline's wrist in her hand and says lowly, "We're leaving."

As Elena drags her towards the back staircase, Caroline tugs on her wrist and says urgently, "Elena. Elena, _stop_." Elena skids to a stop and turns to face her, her breath coming out in angry pants, her cheeks pink.

"Elena," Caroline repeats gently, motioning to the scythe in her hand. "Dean can't know about that. Not yet." Her teeth worry her bottom lip. "Not until we figure out how we can save them." She takes a ragged breath. "Both of them."

Elena inhales deeply through her nose and considers her before nodding. "Yeah," she says, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. Her hair falls over her shoulder and she tugs at it absently. "Yeah, you're right." She stares down at the weapon in her hand with distaste. "We'll keep it at Bonnie's house. No one's been invited in besides you."

"And I'm definitely not stealing it," Caroline mutters, arms wrapping around herself tightly. "Elena, Damon stole that from Klaus and he's…not happy about it. To put it mildly."

Elena's eyes narrow on her and Caroline can see the wheels in her friend's turning. "Did he...Care, did Klaus _threaten_ you?" The fury in her eyes makes Caroline laugh, but it's completely without humor. The idea of Klaus letting Elena go at him the way she had just attacked the Salvatores makes Caroline think of a kitten swatting at a rabid wolf.

"It's fine," she finally answers, avoiding Elena's eyes. She knows Elena isn't stupid – knows that she'll immediately pick up on how Caroline didn't answer the question at all. So she shrugs and says nonchalantly, "He…may have thought I took it."

Elena's eyes go wide and she grabs Caroline's forearm. "Are you okay?"

Caroline shrugs in response. "Relatively."

She's dodging the question again, but Elena doesn't push it. She only stares concernedly before saying slowly, "I think you might need to stay with me for a while." The unspoken _where he doesn't have an invitation_ floats between them.

"Oy!" a voice from downstairs hollers and Caroline and Elena stiffen at the same time. "We brought things to roast on your lovely fire!"

"We?" Elena growls under her breath before shaking her head; Caroline feels a tremor go up her spine at Kol's voice. She wonders just how many 'we' consists of. "Let's go hide this thing at Bonnie's before the Originals figure out we have it."

… … …

Caroline follows Elena silently back into the Salvatore boarding house, dancing slightly on her tiptoes to keep her footsteps from falling too heavily. When she nearly trips on the edge of one of Damon's Persian rugs—swear to God, he probably makes love to those things nightly and they don't even _fly_— Elena raises her eyebrows and smothers a nervous giggle.

Rolling her eyes, Caroline looks up to glare at her friend; but behind Elena, Dean is deep in conversation with _Rebekah._ Eyes narrowing, Caroline sets her jaw and brushes past Elena to grab Dean's forearm and drag him away.

"Don't talk to her," she orders, not caring that Rebekah can hear her very clearly. "Evil bitches always end up having things for you and I'm not dealing with that on top of your death wish." She pulls him into the kitchen and he smirks at her when she stops.

"I don't have a death wish," he says mildly, before grinning at her. "Nice ninja-sneaking, by the way. You've really taken the Winchester ways to heart." There's a low note of amusement in his voice and Caroline jumps as though he'd pinched her.

"Noticed that, huh?" she says nervously, fidgeting around the Salvatore kitchen table and avoiding his eyes.

"Uh huh. So did the two Muppet babies." He smirks towards the living room where Caroline can hear Rebekah snapping at Elena. "I was covering for you, braintrust. Something about a prom emergency."

She forces a laugh and Dean eyes her suspiciously. "What'd you do, Care." It's not a question but her brain scrambles for an answer anyway.

"Nothing!" she defends immediately, crossing her arms over her chest. "We...look, Elena wanted to make sure people were actually getting out of town. I couldn't let her go by herself, Dean."

He snorts at her, clearly disbelieving and she opts for distraction.

"Dean," she says quietly, and when he looks down at her, his face changes.

"Hey," he says gently, hand going to her shoulder. "It's okay. You're okay, remember?"

Caroline shakes her head, pieces of her hair getting caught in the chapstick she had put on at Bonnie's. "I just feel like we're getting closer to something really bad."

His mouth quirks. "Well, yeah. The world's about to end."

Caroline punches him in the shoulder. "You know what I mean, dirtbag." He rolls his eyes at her, rubbing the spot and she shakes her head.

"No I mean..." she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Dean, don't do anything stupid, okay?" He scowls good-naturedly at her, mood bolstered by the glowing orange outside the kitchen window. "You don't know what it was like here, after you...you know." She bites her lip and his expression becomes more serious. "You were gone, Mom wouldn't look at me, Sam disappeared for weeks at a time, Damon—" she stops the torrent of words and Dean's eyes harden.

"Damon what, Care?" he asks lowly and she waves it away.

"Just...everything fell apart after you left, Dean." Her voice wobbles a little. "Don't do it again."

Dean sighs and says carefully, "I'm trying not to." He ruffles her hair and says quietly, "I love you, Care," before he leaves the room. Taking a deep breath, she starts to head after him when Rebekah appears out of nowhere to corner her. Caroline stumbles back slightly and is immediately annoyed with herself. _Back down to no evil slut, Forbes._

"What?" she snaps haughtily, crossing her arms and glaring like a champ. Rebekah looks not the slightest bit intimidated and Caroline keeps a vague insult about the elderly, wrinkles and the millennium Rebekah has under her belt tucked in the back of her mind – just in case she needs it.

"Your hair looks terrible, do you even own a mirror?" Rebekah doesn't pause for an answer before pushing forward. "Did you have a nice familial chat?" It's a casual question but there's a predatory gleam in her eye; Caroline opens her mouth to retort but a very male and very familiar honey-accented voice from the other room freezes her brain.

The look on her face must change because Rebekah's mouth softens at the corners. "You and I aren't so different, Caroline," she muses pensively and Caroline starts to flare before she continues, "I'm protecting my brother too."

And okay, Caroline _knows_ that but there's a glaring difference there. "My brother isn't evil," she says flatly, setting her jaw. "My brother _saves_ people, and yours just ends them."

Rebekah shrugs, completely unaffected. "Nevertheless. Much like you, I reserve the right to protect my family."

It's eerily similar to what she had said to Klaus and –_no_. No, no, no, she's not thinking about that because everything is too complicated already without fussing out the particulars surrounding good and evil. Especially in the middle of this topsy-turvy apocalypse where all the good guys are bad and all the bad guys are good. She'll save those philosophical musings for a rainy day when this is all over.

Rebekah considers her thoughtfully and Caroline's about to snap at her to take a picture when Bonnie's panicked voice yells from the living, "_Caroline!_"

She and Rebekah lock panicked eyes, blue on blue, before tearing from the room. Bonnie is standing at the open front door, Dean and Sam are crowding behind her and Klaus is somewhere in the mix but she still can't think about that, _nope_. Castiel is hovering, grim anticipation on his face and that means—

Outside on the Salvatore lawn, there's a small crowd of people standing in a line, arms folded and eyes angry. Caroline recognizes some of them, a dull dread settling in her stomach. Michael is in the middle, Matt's smile twisted into a shadow of what it once was. His face is gray, a pallor hanging over his cheeks; her friend has been completely erased. She steps closer to Sam, her shoulder touching his arm as she slides in front and effectively blocks Dean from view. Not like it matters.

In the back of her mind, she thinks with a sinking feeling that she and Elena may have made a fatal mistake, taking the scythe to Bonnie's.

She feels someone at her back and immediately tenses, thinking fiercely that if Dean thinks he's getting past her and Sam, he's _seriously_ deranged; but it's Castiel, pressing cold metal into her open palm. Caroline tenses, fingers wrapping tightly around it. She doesn't give a single solitary shit if it's a fire poker or an Angel-Killing sword because an angelic army composed of people she's known her entire life—her _neighbors_ for God's sake—are here to take her brother to certain death.

Castiel says lowly in her ear, "I will guard Dean," and she nods jerkily, all of her muscles coiling under her skin.

Bonnie's whispering under her breath and no one moves—until all at once, everyone does.

Dean immediately starts protesting as Castiel muscles him away from the doorway, and Kol gives a war whoop that under any other circumstance would make Caroline feel nauseous. But for today at least, he's on her side, and she can't afford the distraction.

Stefan is keeping pace with her, his face vamped out and eyes focused on her next-door neighbor. She shoves the Angel-Killing sword into his outstretched hand and tries not to notice how Mrs. Harris falls to the ground with no life in her eyes. Stefan doesn't look back at her.

Michael's angelic army isn't large but it's effective; she sees Elena screaming from the doorway and realizes faintly that Bonnie must have spelled the house so she couldn't leave—she's definitely the most vulnerable out of all of them. The demons are spilling out of the woodwork, followed swiftly by Klaus's hybrids and the coppery smell of blood is seeping into the air.

Out of the corner of her eye, Caroline sees the Sheriff's car pull up with its lights flashing, and only Liz would think that police sirens would have any kind of effect on a battle literally between Heaven and Hell. She's barely even thought _Please, God, no_ and started to take off in that direction when some minor angel in the body of a neighbor whose daughter used to baby-sit her gets in the way.

She doesn't think, doesn't stop, and doesn't even consider the fact that she has nothing to defend herself with. She's yelling at the absolute top of her lungs for Liz's attention, but the noise of the battle is too loud and Liz doesn't hear her. But Caroline hears her own name being called out. Before she can even register who it is, she feels cold metal in her hand and without hesitation, rams the Killing Sword through Mrs. Peterson. She pushes aside all the guilt and self-loathing because there will be plenty of time for that later, and all that matters right now is that she gets to—

But she doesn't.

Matt—no, not Matt, _Michael_, never Matt—gets there first.

A pair of arms steel themselves around her before she even realizes that she's literally lunging for Michael; she's stopped seeing her sweet, puppy-eyed ex-boyfriend, the groom in all her fantasy weddings and instead she sees only her mother's—oh God, her mother's _murderer_.

Because Liz isn't moving and Caroline has to get out of these arms, she has to_ get there. _She can hear herself shouting, but it sounds so far away that if her throat wasn't ripped raw from it, she would think it wasn't her own voice. She tastes salt before she realizes that she's crying and her ribcage grinds violently against the arms that are holding her back; everything is tinged with black and red. Her face isn't her own anymore.

"_Stop_, Caroline," Klaus orders hoarsely, and she may have actually lost her mind because she's kicking and clawing at him and she just has to get to Liz because her mother—her mother—

"You can't do anything," he says roughly, and he's pulling her back and she hates him _so much_ in this moment because she's still trying, trying so desperately to break free because if she could just get there—

But there's a blinding flash of light with Bonnie's hand is in the middle of a circle of her own blood, and just like that, the battle is over. Caroline's knees give out and she drops to the ground, gripping at Klaus like he's her tether to reality. He's saying things in her ear that she doesn't even begin to process; for all she knows, he isn't even speaking English. Her eyes and mind are full of her mother—Liz motionless on the ground in front of her, Liz baking her seventh birthday cake and letting her lick the bowl clean of chocolate batter, Liz teaching her how to swim, Liz holding her close as they both cried for John Winchester, and then again for Dean.

And it's not a dream.

… … …

**tbc.**

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**A/N**: I reached 100 reviews! You guys are the absolute best, and I mean that. Seriously, when I wrote the Prologue, I kept thinking how it was total word-vomit and no one would even like it. So thank y'all so, _so_ much.

Don't hate me for this chapter, okay? I have an endgame, cross my heart. Plus first big battle scene!

I would love a review if you have the time.


	10. nine

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Title is from Explosions in the Sky.

**A/N: **I'm so sorry for the last chapter, everyone, but it had to be done. What's an Apocalypse without some horrible casualties? Rest in peace, Liz.

Ahem, just in case you didn't notice: the rating of this fic has changed. I sincerely hope that this does not put anyone off of continuing to read.

Again, thanks for the feedback—you all are the very best. Happy reading.

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**9.**

Caroline barely feels being passed to someone but then she's pulled right off her feet, her forehead dropping onto Sam's shoulder and she has the faint realization that he's carrying her somewhere. He isn't saying actual words, just soft shushing and then there's warmth at her back and Dean says, his voice sounding as though someone dragged it over broken glass, "Care…hey, Care—" His arms cover hers and the three of them are a conjoined ball of tears and grief.

Damon says from somewhere beside them, "Go home," and later Caroline will realize just how broken he sounds in this moment and who would have predicted real friendship between Damon Salvatore and—

"Mom," she tries to say, but nothing comes out and Damon, ever observant, puts a hesitant hand on her shoulder and says quietly, "Consider it taken care of, Caroline." And oh God, if Damon's being nice to her, that means this isn't a dream, that all of it's really happening, and she just completely checks out.

It's kind of like an out-of-body experience: she sees herself rest her head on Sam's chest in the backseat of the Impala, her breathing jagged and his expression the picture of stunned. Dean's face is bleached of all color, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. None of them say anything as Dean whips in the car into the driveway, slamming on the brakes and pulling the parking brake as though it's committed a personal offense.

She pushes Sam's arm off of her shoulders, her eyes burning until she can't see anymore. The welcome mat trips her up at the doorway and she stumbles into the foyer, pushing Dean away as he tries to catch her elbow.

"_Don't_," she rasps out, jerking out of his grasp and locking herself in the bathroom.

She has no idea how long she sits there, knees pulled up to her chest, goose bumps rising on her skin from the cold of the bathroom floor. Her back is pressed against the bathtub, pieces of her dirty hair falling in front of her eyes. There's blood on her clothes and the smell of it permeates the air; it makes her want to vomit.

After several minutes it takes too much energy to even sit up and she curls into a small ball on top of the bath rug.

Every breath takes her further away from Liz; every second is another that passes in a world where her mother no longer exists. Maybe if she doesn't move from this spot—maybe if she concentrates hard enough she can make everything stop. But then there's a hesitant knock on the door and Caroline tightens into herself, not answering.

"Care," Sam says gently. "Care, you don't have to come out, but…we're here, okay?"

A small, miniscule part of her feels slightly guilty, because she's not the only one grieving—she knows Dean and Sam are suffering as well, knows that Liz was just as much mother to them as to herself. But a larger, more selfish part of her is too wrapped up in her own numbness to care.

Caroline lays on the bathroom floor until her limbs stiffen and begin to ache, protesting the long passage of time without movement. She doesn't know how much time has actually passed but there is a new, more insistent knocking on the door followed by the slight creaking of it being pushed slightly open.

"Hey," Elena says gently, sliding into the room, followed swiftly by Bonnie. They don't say anything else, but Bonnie sits on the edge of the tub, her elbows on her knees and Elena sits next to Caroline, stroking her hair away from her face.

They sit there until Caroline loses track of time, her eyelids slowly shutting as the combined sounds of Bonnie and Elena's heartbeats lull her into an uneasy doze.

"Care," Bonnie says softly, touching her shoulder and waking her out of it. "Can we get you anything?"

Caroline shakes her head, tucking her nose into Elena's knee. "No," she whispers, her throat full of nails and cement and pain. "Just…just stay."

So they do.

… … …

_Pull yourself together._

It's a mantra that Caroline chants in her mind the entire day—when she shuts off her alarm, when she stands in the shower, eyes shut tightly against the scalding water. She repeats it silently as she pulls on her black dress, as she curls her hair and as she slips her favorite pair of earrings into her ears. She meets her own eyes in the mirror only briefly—with the dark circles and the equally dark eyeliner, she looks hollow.

She feels hollow too.

Sam holds her hand and she rests her head on Dean's shoulder as they stand in front of freshly moved earth. She doesn't look at the shiny box, doesn't meet anyone's eyes and blames the rain falling off the edges of Dean's umbrella for the wetness on her face. There is no priest to preside over the funeral and in the back of her mind, she's fairly certain Sam and Dean dug the grave themselves. After all, there's no one left in Mystic Falls.

Caroline watches numbly as her friends lay roses on the dark earth, watches as though from very far away as she herself follows their lead. Watches as Bonnie touches the earth next to the grave and a patch of light yellow flowers springs up where her fingers rest. Watches as Stefan claps Damon on the shoulder because her least favorite Salvatore's jaw is twitching like he's trying very hard not to cry.

The out of body experience ends when she looks up and sees the Originals hanging back on the fringe of the tiny semi-circle around her. Even Kol's expression is grim and drawn, but it's the open sympathy on Rebekah's face that feels like a knife to her stomach and Caroline becomes very aware of the fact that _she can't do this_. She tugs on Dean's hand and says in his ear, "I—I'm gonna go home."

He pulls back and the concern in his green eyes nearly makes her take it back. "It's okay," she whispers, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Her voice wavers and the words almost don't make it around the painful lump in her throat. Dean searches her face for something—she has no idea what, or if it he finds it—before he wraps her in a bear hug and whispers back, "See you at home."

As soon as she enters the safety of her room, she peels the black dress off as though the fabric is burning her skin and makes a beeline for her shower.

Caroline sits in the tub, the water from the showerhead hot and soothing, her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Time loses meaning and she has no idea how long she sits there, skin wrinkling as the water turns cooler and cooler. And still it is the knock at the door, followed by the sound of it opening, that draws her out.

"Guys," she starts to say, tugging down the front of an old Mystic Falls P.E. shirt with 'Winchester' scrawled across the middle. "I'm fi—"

It's not Sam and Dean.

It's not even Elena or Bonnie.

It's Rebekah.

She looks uncharacteristically uncomfortable hovering in the doorway, fingers drumming idly against the side paneling of the house. "You don't have to let me in," she says as soon as she catches Caroline staring at her in shock. "I just—I needed to tell you." She takes in a deep breath, as though she has to psych herself up for her announcement. "I'm sorry about your mother."

"Um," Caroline says numbly.

Rebekah shifts her weight from foot to foot. "My mother was killed as well. I know how it feels," she says slowly, arms wrapped around her middle as though she's cold. "And I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss."

Caroline takes a cautious step towards her. "Um, thanks," she offers half-heartedly, voice hoarse. Rebekah acknowledges it with a slow nod and is turning to go when Caroline swallows and walks to the door, calling after her, "H-hang on."

The other girl turns expectantly and Caroline looks down, her grip on the doorway vise-like. "You can't come in," she says flatly. "But you can—you can stay, if you want." She motions to the swing on the porch. "I'll be right out."

Two steaming mugs of tea later Caroline asks quietly, "How did your mom…if you don't mind me asking—"

"I'm surprised Elena didn't tell you," Rebekah says thoughtfully, staring out at the front yard as the wind picks up and sends the multicolored leaves spiraling into the air. "Niklaus killed our mother."

Caroline starts, tea splashing dangerously close to the edge of her mug at her sudden movement. "He _what_?"

Rebekah looks entirely unaffected at her shock. "Our parents were hardly deserving of the title after we turned, Caroline." She takes a long sip before continuing. "Mikael hunted us like animals for a thousand years and our mother—" Rebekah sighs and in that moment, Caroline realizes just how old the girl sitting next to her actually is.

"Does it get any easier?" she wonders aloud, voice catching on the nails digging painfully into the walls of her throat.

"What?" Rebekah asks distractedly. "Being motherless?" Caroline nods, unable to force herself to speak. Rebekah is silent, her pointer finger tracing the mouth of the mug cupped in her hands.

"Yes," she finally answers, a faraway look in her eyes. "But not in the way you would like." She glances over at Caroline. "You forget. You forget the sound of their voice, the way they smelled, the things they said to you and the way they said them. You just…forget."

Caroline's face is pale. "But I don't want to," she whispers desperately and pity flashes across Rebekah's face.

"You won't, for a while," she offers comfortingly and Caroline blinks as tears start threaten at the back of her eyelids.

"Thanks for your sympathy, Rebekah," she says carefully, pulling one leg up to her chest so her chin can rest on her knee. "Really, I mean that. But I—I think I need to be alone."

Rebekah takes it well, rising and placing her mug gingerly on the wooden railing of the porch. "Thank you for the tea." Caroline gives a jerky nod as Rebekah starts to walk down the front steps. "And Caroline?"

Caroline looks up from where her mug rests against her thigh. Rebekah's face is still perfectly friendly as she says serenely, "Don't doubt that I'll still rip out your throat if you hurt my brother."

… … …

"What happens now?" Sam asks Castiel quietly as they sit around the dinner table. The room is painfully empty even though the four of them are all there; a coffee cup with _Mrs. Officer_ embossed on one side and a lipstick stain on the other sits on the counter, half-filled with ice-cold coffee. No one wants to be the one to finally empty it.

Castiel looks uneasy, stubble dotting his jaw and dark circles under his eyes. "We wait," he says grimly. "For their next attack. There is an angel—"

"Excuse me, _what_?" Dean snaps and his voice is considerably louder then Sam's and Castiel's; it makes Caroline flinch. "We just sit and fuckin' _wait_ around?That's some bull _crap_ and you know it, Cas."

There's a pained expression on Castiel's face as he says carefully, "We can plan and make arrangements—there's an angel, Joshua, who is said to communicate with God—"

"Oh fuck this noise," Dean growls impatiently and Caroline winces, her head dropping into her hands.

"Can we not?" she says softly, not looking up from the safety of her palms. "I just—we just had Mom's funeral. Can we put off planning yours for at least a day?"

The harsh lines of Dean's face soften and he reaches over to pull her hands gently from her face. "Care," he says, "Care, we gotta do something. More people are gonna die and it's just gonna get worse."

Her eyes flicker up to look at him. "I don't care," she says flatly and Castiel looks mildly alarmed. "_What_?" she demands, the lump in her throat apparent by the wavering scratch of her voice and Castiel's face changes to understanding. "Can I—we just—my mom's _funeral_ was today. I get to be a selfish bitch." Her voice cracks. "At least for today."

The room is suddenly too small and her chair makes a screeching noise as she stands up. "I need some air," she mumbles, fingers rubbing against her brow bone.

The wind is cool outside and the door creaks as Dean joins her on the porch. "How many times have we had this conversation?" Caroline asks reflectively, resting her forearms on the porch railing and not looking at him. "God, I have like déjà vu of déjà vu right now. Here, let me do both sides." She straightens, still not facing him. "Dean, you can't sacrifice yourself because you're my brother and I love you and you've already died once and it nearly destroyed me and Sam—" She lowers her voice in a terrible imitation of him. "Caroline, I have to do it because I think the entire fate of humanity is my responsibility and for my next magic trick I'll turn a cocky-ass lady's man into a candidate for canonization into fucking _sainthood_."

Finally she looks at him and he looks like he's fighting back a grin and she was not trying to be funny, damn it! "It's not a joke, Dean," she snaps and the grin he's trying to hide fully breaks through.

"Dean Winchester, Patron Saint of AC/DC," he snorts and Caroline blinks—because okay, now that she's rethinking her words, it's a little funny—and she struggles to contain her own threatening grin.

"Patron Saint of Muscle Cars," she retorts, the terrible burning in the back of her throat easing slightly.

"Cheap beer," he suggests and laughter builds up in her chest.

"Sawed off shotguns."

"Cheeseburgers."

"Crappy diners."

His grin is splitting his face and hers is lingering on the corners of her mouth until she bursts into the tears she's been holding at bay all night.

"Whoa," Dean says, alarmed, hands coming to grip her forearms and holding her at arms length. "Hey, you're okay." Caroline only cries harder and he pulls her into a hug. He smells like leather and soap and she sniffles into his shirt.

"If you die, I'll never forgive you," she threatens but the tremble in her voice betrays her and his arms simply tighten around her.

"I know," he says quietly and she squeezes her eyes shut.

… … …

It's been two days since her mother's funeral and she hasn't really been sleeping much—or at all, since she can't really make herself drift off—so when she hears someone in her room, she rolls over and pins the intruder with a look.

"Breaking and entering doesn't really mesh with your whole vibe," she comments and Klaus shrugs idly.

"And what would that be, exactly?" he wants to know, voice soft, and she watches as he slides his jacket off and drapes it over her desk chair before making himself comfortable. Caroline casts a quick glance towards where her curtains are slightly parted—the Impala is gone—and breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

"You know," she shrugs and the sheet slides down to reveal her bare shoulder. She doesn't miss the way his eyes follow it. "All suave and debonair. _Ocean's Eleven._ Rat Pack. This is like…beneath you or something." She wrinkles her nose. "_Pedestrian_."

His dimples flash and she leans over the side of her bed to her bedroom floor where a long sleeved t-shirt lays crumpled. She pulls it over her head to cover the tank top she sleeps in and he says lowly, "I wanted to see how you were getting along."

Caroline shrugs and plays with the hem of the shirt, not looking at him. "I'm getting along," she says flatly.

"Hardly an answer, sweetheart."

"It's the best one I can give right now," she retorts sharply, looking up; her breath catches when she finds him now standing by the edge of her bed. "You know you're doing that thing again where you're super creepy, right?"

He ignores her insult, "I could make you turn it off," he points out lowly, his voice almost warm. It makes her want to consider his words more than she would ever admit, especially not to him. "Make all the pain stop."

She flinches away from him. "I'm not a coward," she snaps, drawing the sleeves of her shirt down over her fingers and curling her hands into fists. "And I am not afraid of pain. Besides, after your mind-zap the other day—" His eyes turn stormy and she doesn't finish the thought, only shrugs again. "Let's just say breakfast is a bitch and a half to get down."

Klaus sits down uninvited on her bed and she automatically scoots over. "Caroline-"

"Oh, save it," she grumbles, rubbing her forehead. "You're an asshole and I don't know how I let myself forget it. You're only being nice because you feel sorry for me."

His eyes narrow at her. "Apologies are in order, I will admit, but your gang of friends has been trying to kill me for months. And Caroline," Klaus leans in so they are nearly nose to nose and it takes most of her concentration to keep her breath from catching. "I'm never nice."

She groans in annoyance and flops backwards on her bed. "Oh my _God_ you suck at this. Seriously, just stop. You're only digging yourself deeper."

He does and falls so quiet for so long that if it weren't for the weight of him on her bed she would think he left. But then he says, "I'm sorry for your loss, Caroline."

Her heart constricts violently in her chest and her fingers curl down on the top of her bedspread, gripping it tightly. "You shouldn't have held me back. I could've—would've—"

Without warning, his hands are gripping her shoulders and pulling her upwards, forcing her to look at him. "You could have _what_?" Klaus demands, eyes flashing. "All you would have succeeded in doing was commit suicide, sweetheart, and I'll be damned if I let that happen."

"You'll be _damned_?" Caroline repeats in disbelief, pushing him away and swinging her legs down so that she can stand and properly yell at him. "News flash, control freak: you're already damned and last time I checked, you're not the boss of me!" She'll berate herself later for her straight-from-the-sandbox admonishment but she can barely think straight and it's the best she can do at the moment.

"You would have gotten yourself bloody killed," Klaus hisses at her and she scoffs at him, the inside of her chest tightening.

"Some of us love our parents," she retorts and when it comes out in a choked half-sob instead of the taunt she was aiming for, she claps her hands to her mouth and takes a step away from him. She can feel the bubble of grief—tears and pain and short gasps of breath—growing inside of her and the anger vanishes from Klaus's face.

"Caroline," he says softly and she shakes her head, still backing away until her back meets her bedroom wall. Klaus's hand comes up to her face and brushes a strand of hair off of her forehead and the bubble breaks.

She's practically hyperventilating when he slides one of his arms around her waist, his free hand going to stroke her hair soothingly. She hiccups into his chest and her fingers fist his shirt as she tries very hard to not shake.

"It's all right," he says, over and over, fingers brushing through her hair rhythmically. "It's all right."

Her breathing starts and stops in stutters, catching and tripping violently over the air she forces into her lungs. _One_—she takes a deep, trembling breath in, _two_—and lets it back out.

When the hysteria finally ebbs away, her fingers relax and her shoulders slump, the previous tension leaving her muscles aching in its wake. "You're forgiven," she mumbles into his shirt and she can feel him smile slightly into her hair. "But don't do it again."

He kisses her temple. "Wouldn't dream of it, love."

Caroline tucks her nose into his shirt, reaching up to wipe her face with her sleeve. "All I feel is grief and numbness," she whispers, voice muffled by the proximity of her sleeves to her mouth. "Does it ever stop?"

His fingers still their path in her hair for a moment. "Did it stop with your brother?" he asks gently, his voice vibrating in his chest underneath her ear.

Ice settles in the pit of her stomach. "That was different."

"Was it now," he murmurs, his thumb running up and down her spine in slow, lazy circles.

"I knew exactly where Dean went," she mumbles shakily into his shirt. "And maybe it's stupid and totally messed up, but I figured that if I d-died, even Hell couldn't be that bad if I was there with someone I love." Her sigh hitches and she bites her lip, taking in another yoga-breath; she doesn't miss the way his arm tenses around her waist. "And no matter what Cas says, you and I both know vampires don't go to Heaven."

"I don't know that," Klaus says reflectively, "and neither do you, sweetheart."

Caroline snorts in disbelief. "We're monsters. Abominations of nature." She swipes at her running nose, her eyelashes thick with tears. "Heaven isn't _for_ us."

And that's the crux of it, really—her mother's death guaranteeing an eternal separation. "I'll never see her again," she rasps, squeezing her eyes shut again.

Klaus doesn't argue, but she knows him well enough by now to recognize the slight tension in his fingers as disagreement.

But she can't think about that anymore.

The electricity in the air crackles as it becomes more palpable, and the muscles in her back tense in the wake of where his hand is still travelling soothingly. "I can't stop crying," she tells him hoarsely, her hand releasing the bunched up ball of his shirt she has been gripping. She flattens her palm over his heart; its steady rhythm is almost hypnotic.

"That's to be expected, sweetheart," he says and she turns her face so that her forehead is pressing into his chest.

"K-Klaus—I'm never—never going to see her—" she chokes out again, breath catching with every inhalation and something dark and scary flashes in his eyes. She catches it before burying her face in his collarbone. "There's no way—I can't—"

Klaus doesn't say anything—just lets her continue her outpouring of grief and she can't remember if she's ever seen him so patient.

Maybe she's drunk on grief, she thinks, because her limbs are heavy and languid with the same weight as when she has too much Maker's Mark. But she doesn't really care at this moment—she's too numbed by grief and pain to feel anything else.

"When do I stop feeling so dead?" she whispers, pulling away slightly so she can look up at him, her eyes wide.

Klaus's hands cup her face, thumbs brushing the fresh tears away and he says again, "You will, Caroline. Eventually."

And it's still not an answer—not in the slightest—but he has lived a thousand years and the sheer weight of that fact makes Caroline nod like she believes him.

She does believe him.

A thousand years has to count for something, right?

Never dropping his gaze, she slowly stands on the tips of her toes and brushes her lips against his.

She's kissed him before—like, less than three days ago, in fact—but not like this. The first one was born of anger and fear and—she recognizes it now—desperation stemming from the encounter with Famine; the second because he was being so _nice_ when she thought Castiel had died.

This—

Caroline is terrified of being numb forever. She just wants to feel something, _anything_—lust, disdain, self-loathing—she'll take any of it.

Forever is a very real thing for a vampire, she thinks with a slight tremor of terror.

"Caroline," Klaus says warningly, pulling away from her slightly and frowning a little, something dangerous flashing in the depths of his dark blue eyes. "You're upset about your mother. You don't want to start anything you can't finish."

The thrill of anticipation starts to flutter in her stomach and she grasps at it with more than a little desperation—anything to vanquish the deadened ache that's been haunting her for three days. So instead of immediately answering, she slides an arm around his neck and touches her nose to his. "I'm not," she tells him steadily, and when his already darkened eyes shade to near black, there's a quiet flare deep inside her. "I'm not," she repeats more insistently and she kisses him again.

This time his reaction is instant. What had been an almost chaste touch of lips before becomes his tongue sliding past her teeth, his hands dropping to her hips and gripping tightly, pulling her close. Her fingers slip down to the hem of his Henley and she pulls up; he smirks at her as he lets her peel it off of him. She tosses it to her bedroom floor.

Caroline dots slow, wet kisses across his collarbone and down the slight dip of muscle in the center of his chest before he grips her upper arms and hauls her back up to him, his mouth returning the favor on hers before he slowly raises her arms, his hands sliding back down her body and reaching for her shirt. She watches languidly as it and her tank top fall to floor next to his. "You're radiant," he says hotly, almost reverently, into her bare shoulder and when she exhales shakily into his ear, she feels him smirk on her skin.

When he kisses her again, it's deeper than before and the hair on her arms stands up. Stomach clenching, she undoes the button of his jeans without breaking the kiss and he groans a little into her mouth. Once his jeans are carelessly discarded, she goes for the drawstring of her pajama bottoms—but his hands catch hers and bring them up over her head. "Doing my job for me, sweetheart?" he admonishes lightly with a brush of his human teeth against her neck. She makes an impatient noise and one of his hands releases its hold on hers to toy with the drawstring.

"Klaus—"

He cuts her off with a kiss so soft her knees nearly give out—a barely there graze of lips that belies almost everything she knows about him; and she is so thoroughly distracted that when she feels his roaming hand part her thighs, she jumps slightly.

He's not even touching her anywhere particularly scandalous—and over her pajama bottoms, no less—but as he contents himself with strumming her inner thighs with his fingers, her own captive ones clench in protest against his restraining hand. "Klaus," she repeats, more insistently this time and his eyes flicker up to meet hers.

His reaction to whatever it is he sees there is to slide his hands around the backs of her legs and hitch them upwards so that they wrap around his waist. Caroline's mouth goes dry and her limbs feel boneless as she leans in to kiss him again.

If anyone can make her feel something—anything—

The backs of her bare legs hit the bedspread and she realizes with a start that she somehow missed him making short work of her pajama bottoms—and that all that's separating them is her underwear.

"No going back," Klaus warns harshly in her ear, his rough voice a contrast to the gentleness of his fingers in her hair.

Caroline touches her forehead to his. "I don't want to go back," she tells him quietly, and when he hitches her up against him in response, a low ache starts swirling in the bottom of her stomach. "I—oh my _God_," she breathes when his hand moves down her legs, taking her underwear with it.

He kisses her again, almost chastely before letting his lips move down to the column of her throat—then down to her neck, and lower still; they leave a blazing trail of _want_ marching straight down her sternum. He pauses at her hipbone, lips lingering, and she realizes through a fog of anticipation that she's holding her breath.

Then his mouth is _right there_ and her fingers twist in the sheets, her back arching and hips rising for more, tiny noises slipping past her clenched jaw. Her stomach clenches and her fingers wind themselves in his hair, keeping him in place because she might die if he moves— then her vision is swimming and her eyelids flutter shut.

But right before she falls apart, his nose and mouth trace back up her body and she groans aloud. "_Seriously_—" she starts to whine, shifting her hips in an attempt to bring back the friction, but his fingers on her waist hold her in place. They replace his mouth, long and hot and curling and her eyes squeeze shut again, sparks flying on the inside of her eyelids.

"Caroline," Klaus says and he doesn't even sound like himself, his voice raspy and growling. Her eyes don't open as she mumbles, "Yeah?" She doesn't care what he says as long as he doesn't stop—as long as he never stops.

His fingers are gone and his stubble is rough against her cheek. "Look at me," he demands roughly and it doesn't even occur to her to ask why. Her eyes open and meet his just as he slides into her and Caroline doesn't even recognize the noise she makes as coming from her own throat. Her fingernails dig into the defined muscles of his back and he makes this sound in her ear that would be completely terrifying if they were in literally _any_ other situation—demanding and rough and _wanting._

But then Klaus stills, his eyes nearly piercing in their intensity and Caroline immediately tenses. "What's wrong?" she asks, and her voice doesn't sound anything like it normally does—too hoarse, too gasping and desperate for him to just move against her again.

He doesn't answer; instead leaning down to kiss her softly—almost sweetly. The look on his face is near to worshipful and if she weren't so close to becoming a puddle of pure bliss, it would terrify her.

Instead she pushes her hips up, drawing him further inside and he groans into her hair, his teeth scraping the shell of her ear. "Holy crap," Caroline whispers, his hands tight on her hips and her nails trailing down his shoulders.

Caroline falls apart in Klaus's arms, white-hot sparks dotting behind her eyelids as she moans his name. The scruff of his beard scrapes against her jawline as he nuzzles her hair; and then he rolls them over so that her head rests on his chest, his breath fanning across her face.

The ramifications of what she's done tug at her briefly—after all, she knows exactly who he is, what he's done, and what this momentary surrender will be to him—and a flash of nervousness jolts through her. What if he never lets her go?

But then it disappears as sleep vetoes all doubts. Exhaustion finally, _finally_ tugs at her eyelids and just as she lets it take her, she feels him lay an almost tender kiss on her brow bone.

… … …

The sunlight streaming in through her curtains and the smell of pancakes wakes her up and for a single, heartbreakingly peaceful and perfect second, Caroline doesn't remember. Doesn't remember why the air of grief has been hanging around her for days—doesn't remember why her lips are so swollen.

But the heavy arm slung possessively over her waist and the legs tangled in hers bring it all flooding back.

And they're both so, _so_ naked.

Very slowly, Caroline unfolds herself from Klaus's arms and cautiously leans over the side of her bed to fish around on her floor for her shirt. Two of her fingers curl around the fabric and she pulls it over her head in a flash, nearly breathing a sigh of relief before warily glancing over her shoulder—he's still asleep. She thinks. Maybe.

She manages to pull on her clothes and leans into her dresser mirror, wincing at the love knots littered throughout her hair—that, coupled with the flush at the tops of her cheeks, does nothing to hide her late night activities. She pulls her sex hair into a high ponytail and, with a final glance at Klaus sleeping in her bed—he doesn't look nearly as scary with her yellow paisley sheets pooling around his hips—she slips out of her bedroom.

Right smack into Dean.

"Hey," he says as he munches on a bowl of cereal, his voice still gritty with sleep; Caroline shuts her bedroom door as quickly and quietly as she can. "Why're you up so early?" He taps her on the nose with his spoon. "School's out for…ever, actually."

She swallows and hopes he can't see her nerves. But he's Dean, and he knows her so she doesn't tempt fate by standing there like a guilt-stricken little girl with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "Couldn't sleep," she says honestly, tugging at her ponytail. "Um—I think I'm gonna go up to the Falls. Take a breather." She makes a wide gesture with her palms. "Be in, you know, _nature._"

Dean frowns at her. "Bad idea, kiddo. What if some Omen-wannabe angel snatches you up?" He pauses and the frowns deepens, suspicion beginning to creep across his face. "Besides, you hate nature."

Her heart picks up speed again but Caroline still shrugs idly. "I'll tap my heels three times and get Cas to beam me up Scotty?" she suggests, arching an eyebrow at him as she walks to the door. "Maybe I'm starting to appreciate that if we lose, nature's not gonna be there anymore."

Before he can grill her anymore—because seriously, _IhadsexwithKlauslastnightbye !_ is dancing on the tip of her tongue and that would be the nightmare to end all nightmares—she walks out to her car, the unearthly quiet of the town settling in the pit of her stomach.

… … …

As Caroline pulls her car into a completely empty parking lot that is nowhere near the Falls, she thinks that Dean was completely accurate in his suspicions.

The heavy oak doors of the church are surprisingly unlocked and creak when Caroline hesitantly pushes them open. "H—hello?" she calls into the empty entryway, the silence wrapping around her and coming to rest in her bones.

The pews are completely empty and the sun shining through the stained glass windows near the ceiling makes rainbows shimmer across the carpet. It should be comforting, but she feels very much like the next victim in _Zombieland_ and every muscle in her body is on high alert.

She slowly sits down on the front row, automatically folding her hands and bowing her head like a small child.

"You okay there?" a voice asks curiously and Caroline jumps out of her seat.

The voice belongs to an older dark skinned man who is peering at her, his eyebrows raised; one look at him and Caroline _knows_ she knows him from somewhere. She just can't put her finger on _where_. Maybe a dream?

"Are you all right?" the man asks again, this time with a little more concern and her mind kicks into overdrive. The reedy rasp to his voice tugs somewhere in the back of her memory but she can't place it.

"Everyone's gone," Caroline stammers incoherently and he tilts his head at her. "Because of the—the pipe thing." _Oh God, it was a pipe right? _She can't even remember which lies they've told anymore.

He looks amused. "Seems so. Town's been awful quiet here lately."

"Right," she mumbles non-committedly, and he casts another concerned look her way.

"You want to talk about it?" he asks and Caroline's eyes flash up to his.

"Talk about what?" she asks carefully, edging away from him slightly.

"Whatever's got you running to a church by your lonesome at seven-thirty on a Thursday morning," he says sensibly and she flushes.

"Oh. Yeah. Uh no, I don't—not really."

He studies her thoughtfully before he says kindly, "You have a good day then," and starts to turn away. And before she can stop them, the words spill from her mouth. "My mom died a few days ago and I haven't been coping really well and I just did something kind of bad and I really, really don't want to go to Hell." The last few words come out in a whisper; the man pauses and turns back to face her.

"Now why would you go to Hell?" he asks gently, and when Caroline looks up to meet his gaze, it's so soft and warm that she nearly bursts into tears.

"I just might," she mumbles vaguely, wincing inwardly at the shake in her voice. "Not—not because of the bad thing I just did but because—because I think I'm just a bad person."

"Oh, I don't believe that," the man tells her comfortingly and she shakes her head emphatically.

"I am," she insists. "I've really, _really_ hurt people. There's no way that—okay look, God can't love someone like me. If He even exists." She looks at him with wide eyes. "Do you think God exists?" Caroline has no idea why she's asking him these things, but he doesn't seem surprised at all by her openness.

The man tilts his head at her and seems to truly consider her question. "Yes," he says finally and when her mouth opens to ask him how he can be so sure, he holds one hand up to stop her. "Would you not say it's better than the alternative?"

"Is it, though?" she counters, raising an eyebrow. "That someone up there is supposed to love us and lets us tear each other apart anyway? Or lets other—" Caroline falls silent, suddenly very aware that she has no idea who this person who is or what side he might be on. "I don't know," she finishes lamely.

The man considers her and Caroline can feel tears fighting to make their way past her eyelids. "Look," she says, wiping at the corners of her eyes, "you should probably not stay in town. It's not safe."

He smiles at her, and it's so warm and comforting that she kind of forgets _why_ it's not safe in Mystic Falls. "Oh, Caroline," he says, and just like that, cold terror pierces the fog. _Stupid, stupid idiot, always letting your guard down!_ "You are too young to be this old."

She flashes to the door of the church in less time than it takes to blink, but the door is gone—and not just the door, but the entire church and they're now standing at the Falls. Slowly, fear and trepidation seeping through her veins, Caroline turns.

"What did you do?" she whispers, backing away from him. "Who _are _you? Are you going to kill me?"

He looks at her with kind, sympathetic eyes and that just makes it so, so much worse. "No, I am not here to kill you, Caroline," he says. "It is time we had a talk."

Panic starts to flare around her heart, fluttering against it like bird's wings. "So talk." She casts a nervous glance around. "Why are we at the Falls? I mean, I know we're still technically at the church and maybe this is all in my head, but why are—"

"Caroline," the man—_angel _interrupts gently. "I have a message for you."

Her stomach drops straight through her shoes as realization dawns. "You're Joshua," she says flatly. "The guy who has a direct line to God."

Joshua tilts his head slightly. "He talks. I listen," he acknowledges. "One gardener to another."

"Yeah?" Caroline hisses, voice cracking in desperation. "Not sure if you noticed, buddy, but his garden's freaking _dying_."

"I know," Joshua says calmly, and it makes her want to scream. "He knows as well. And that, Caroline, is his message to you: leave it."

Caroline freezes, the blood pounding in her ears. "E—excuse me?"

"Back off," he says solemnly. "Let it go."

"Let it—you can't be serious!"

"He knows," Joshua repeats, sympathy in his every feature. "But he will not help." Her face crumbles and her mouth starts to tremble.

"So what now, then?" Caroline demands, arms wrapping around herself in an attempt to keep the shaking at bay. "He wipes us out? Noah and the ark, second verse same as the first? Start from scratch because something got screwed up again?" Her voice is reaching a fever pitch, scorching at her throat. "What about my _brother_?"

It's not until she feels wetness on her face that she realizes she's crying. Joshua reaches out and clasps her hand in his; his grip is warm and firm. "I am sorry," he says quietly. "I wish I could do more to help you."

"Then _help me_!" she shouts, breaking around the words.

"I cannot."

She goes still, her mind briefly reaching for that switch that Damon and Stefan go on and on about before shying away. "Then no," she rasps lowly, refusing to look at him. "My answer to your question is no. If this is who God is, then no—this is not better than no God at all."

… … …

Caroline doesn't remember driving home, but she finds herself sitting in her car in her driveway. The Impala is still parked on the street, and every time she looks up and sees it in her rearview mirror, a great and terrible feeling of despair threatens to overwhelm her every thought.

Slowly, feeling as though she is much, much older than eighteen, Caroline gets out of the car and walks to her front door. She can hear Sam and Dean arguing about the dishwasher in the kitchen and she rubs her hand across the back of her neck. From her vantage point in the foyer, she can see that her bedroom door is open and her unmade bed empty, but even the relief of dodging that particular bullet is fleeting.

"Caroline," Castiel says out of nowhere, and she doesn't even jump.

"Hey," she says tonelessly, dropping her bag on the floor before sinking limply onto the sofa. She tucks one pillow under her arms and curls into the fetal position, knees drawn up tightly to her chest.

Castiel stares at her before saying quietly, "You met Joshua."

She's not at all surprised that Castiel knows. "He's a d-bag."

He wasn't—not really—but it makes her feel a little better to lump him in with the Bad Guys.

Castiel's eyes bore into hers and she wonders briefly if he's trying to read her mind. "God will not help," he says, and it isn't a question.

It hits her like a bolt of lighting and Caroline sits straight up. "You knew," she says slowly, eyes narrowing as Castiel looks down. "You knew that he washed his hands of us and _yeah,_ pun freaking intended."

"I suspected," Castiel admits softly, "after I encountered him. I had hoped to be wrong."

"Well you weren't," Caroline says flatly, collapsing back against the cushions. "He's completely ambivalent about the world ending and everyone dying."

"Who is?" Dean asks, wiping a plate dry as he stands behind the couch and just as Caroline blurts out, "No one!" Castiel says gravely, "The Lord."

Caroline bites her lip before risking a glance at Dean's face. His expression hasn't changed in the slightest but his lips have turned white and Sam next to him looks nearly devastated.

"So," Dean says finally, voice devoid of all emotion, the plate hanging lifelessly from his fingers. "God's just another deadbeat dad like the rest of them." Sam jerks as though to say something but stays silent. "Can't say I'm all the surprised." They watch as he finishes wiping down the plate, sets it on the table by the front door and walks out, Impala keys dangling in his hand.

Caroline takes in a shaky breath and turns her face up to Sam's. "What happens now?" she asks quietly, but it's a question without an answer and they all know it.

… … …

**tbc.**

* * *

**A/N:** With the heavy religious tone to this chapter (and to this fic in general from here on out) I feel as though I should clarify/disclaim that I am not trying to make any sort of religious statement _at all_. This is entire story is just an exercise in imagination without any sort of implications or attempts on my part to lecture anyone on faith or religion or spirituality.

Just wanted to throw that out there just in case.

I also want to thank Anne/**bkgrl** and Malia/**a pretty little liar** for basically holding my hand through this chapter. Go read their stuff because they are _so_ fantastic.

And thank _you_ for sticking with this story for as long as you have. Seriously. You—yeah, you with the face—you're the best.

Please review if you are so inclined! And feel free to follow me on tumblr: **little-miss-sunny-daisy**


	11. ten

**Disclaimer**: Supernatural/Vampire Diaries are not mine. Title is from Explosions in the Sky and you should go give them a listen.

**A/N**: Stars all around to **youllstartariotbarbarella **and **a pretty little liar** for helping me figure this beast out. Y'all are the best.

I'm glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter! Hope you're ready for this one, because off we go!

* * *

**the birth and death of the day**

**10.**

It's been an hour since Dean disappeared with the Impala when Caroline starts getting restless, muscles tensing and relaxing as her fingers drum on the sofa armrest. "You weren't there," she says to Sam anxiously, her knee jumping up and down. "This Joshua guy—you didn't hear him, Sam, he wasn't joking around! We—we're gonna lose, and we're gonna lose Dean in the process of losing so we gotta go find him _now_." How is she the only one who gets that there can't be that much time left? She can practically see the cliff's edge looming in front of them.

"Whoa, Care," Sam says in alarm, and her fingers drum faster. "Give him some time to think." He reaches out and grabs her knee to make it stop twitching. "We all kind of just had a giant bomb dropped in our laps. Let him figure out whatever he needs to figure out."

"But I can't just sit here," she protests, standing so she can properly fidget, her hands twisting around each other with nervous energy as she paces. "I mean, Sam—what if he does something really stupid like…" she trails off, not wanting to voice her worries for fear it will make them more real. But Sam nods and she knows he knows what she's talking about.

Castiel clears his throat and she and Sam both jump—and Caroline can't speak for Sam, but Cas had gone so quiet she had honestly forgotten he was there at all.

"I am sorry," he says quietly, not quite meeting their eyes. "This is my fault."

"No it's not," Caroline and Sam say in unison and then Caroline mumbles automatically, "Jinx, you owe me a Coke."

Castiel's brow furrows and Sam rolls his eyes at her before saying to him, "It's not your fault, Cas. Stuff's just getting…" he sighs and runs a hand through his shaggy hair. "Real."

The furrow in Castiel's forehead becomes deeper and Caroline clarifies before he can ask, "He means it's getting intense." They need a plan, a way to fix Dean if he decides to be the stupid, tragic boy hero he thinks he is. She takes a deep breath and says, "We'll give him thirty more minutes, Sam. That's it."

As soon as she gives voice to the words, the distinct rumble of the Impala breaks through the tense air of the house and Caroline exhales shakily as Sam shoots her one of his patented Told You So looks.

"Don't wanna talk about it," Dean mumbles as he walks in the door; he takes long strides to the back of the house and Caroline sees his hands shaking slightly.

Sam grabs hold of her arm when she starts to go after him. "Time alone," he reminds her, picking up his laptop from the coffee table and bringing it with him to sit at the kitchen table. Caroline follows him

"Yeah, whatever," Caroline mutters under her breath. "Look—"

"That box over there," Castiel interrupts insistently from the counter, a look of distress on his face. "It won't stop beeping at me."

The bleak mood is—well, not broken, but lightened considerably.

_The box over there_, Caroline mouths to Sam with an arch of an eyebrow and a giggle tickling at her throat; Sam laughs despite the worried wrinkle in his forehead. "I got it, Cas," he says, setting his laptop on the coffee table and bumping Caroline's shoulder with his as he walks past her.

She's about to follow—for her own distraction really, because she and Dean have both already shown Cas how the microwave works—when a figure standing outside their front door catches her eye.

Caroline gives a loud cough, cocking her head towards the door when Sam glances up curiously. He shrugs and turns back to listen to Castiel say exasperatedly, "But the _beeping_!" With a small, affectionate smile, Caroline reaches for the doorknob.

It's a total and complete stranger—which, despite everything currently taking place, still isn't exactly the norm in Mystic Falls.

"Um," she says brilliantly, raising her eyebrows at the guy standing on their welcome mat. She comforts herself with the reminder of the Devil's Trap drawn on the underside. "Can I help you?"

He's tall—only a little shorter than Sam, with a wide forehead and a mocking smile. "Oh _yeah_," he says with a leer; she scowls and moves to shut the door in his face. Apocalypse or no, creeps gonna creep, which is just _so_ gross.

She stops when he adds, "You must be Caroline. Believe me, the pleasure is all mine." She can hear Sam rummaging around in the kitchen; at the sound of the stranger's voice, the sounds of plates and silverware instantly halt.

Her scowl deepens. "Okay, one: no. Two: Who are you?" He's staring at her legs with open appreciation and she shifts uncomfortably, fingers tugging subtly at the hem of her skirt.

"Oh, _right_, you don't know me," the guy says, an impish grin splitting his face before he sticks his hand out. "I'm Loki."

Caroline ignores the gesture because _seriously_? How dumb does this guy think she is? "You don't look like Tom Hiddleston," she snots at him, crossing her arms; and his grin widens.

"I like you," he announces brightly, brushing her aside and walking into their living room. So he's not a demon—the Devil's Trap under the mat would have stopped him in his tracks for sure—but a long-dead Viking god? _Seriously?_ "You're _cheeky,_" he says and his smile is approving.

A cabinet slams in the kitchen and Sam's thunderous face appears behind the stranger's shoulder. "Loki," Caroline repeats incredulously, wrinkling her nose. "As in the Norse god."

Loki—the guy who _claims_ he's Loki, because Caroline's more than a little suspicious—shrugs and turns.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demands, and Caroline's eyes fly to his in shock.

"Wait—he's actually _Loki_? For real?"

"In the flesh," Loki says easily as Castiel walks out of the kitchen, inspecting his reflection in a spoon, a bowl of microwavable soup in his hand. Loki barely spares him a glance as he sits down with a theatrical drop and sets his feet on the coffee table. "You didn't tell me your sister was so cute, Sammy Boy." Sam tenses and opens his mouth to retort but Dean beats him to it.

"The hell is he doing here?" he snaps from the hallway and Loki's arms spread out wide.

"Dean!" he exclaims. "You don't call, you don't write and then I have to hear through the grapevine that Michael wants to posses you? That hurts."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Dean mumbles under his breath, fingers coming up to rub his temples irritably. "What do you want, Loki?"

"Easy," Loki says and the biting cheer vanishes. "For Michael to lose." Next to her, Sam starts and Caroline's eyes widen. "The cavalry's here, boys."

"Wait. How's a Norse god going to help defeat Michael and the Host?" Caroline wants to know, looking from Sam to Dean and back again in confusion. "What am I missing here?"

"Now, now," Loki scolds roguishly, suddenly in front of her and wagging his finger. "Can't reveal all my secrets, beautiful." One of his eyebrows arches and he smirks down at her. "Just know that your odds just went way, way up."

… … … …

Her reasoning for taking Dean with her to the Salvatore house is twofold—he can't try to kill their best hope in weeks for sassing him and he can't accept Michael on the sly. Both of which, she tells him firmly as he steers the Impala into the boarding house driveway, are very real concerns.

"I wouldn't kill him," Dean mutters resentfully as he pulls the parking brake. "Gag him, absolutely."

"He can help us," she chides him as they walk in step up to the door. "Stop being a pessimist."

"You mean a realist."

She groans as Stefan opens the door. "Hey," he says, and Caroline immediately notices the exhaustion on his face. "How're you two doing?" Concerned eyes meet hers. "How are you holding up, Care?"

Neither she nor Dean really respond—Dean gives a half shrug and Caroline tugs uncomfortably at her hair. "Making it," she offers finally, and understanding crosses Stefan's face as he ushers them inside.

"Alice, Tweedledum. Nice to see you both," Damon snarks when they walk in; Elena rolls her eyes and reaches to give Caroline a hug. From the warm circle of Elena's arms, she hears Damon continue, "Where's Tweedledee?"

Caroline pulls away from Elena to hug Bonnie, giving both of them a half-hearted smile. When both of her friends are safely out of earshot and returning to their seats on the couch, Dean growls next to her ear, "I swear to God—"

Wincing, she whispers back, "Don't kill him until after the Apocalypse, okay?"

"Look," Stefan cuts somberly. "We need the next gameplan. We got everyone out, Klaus's hybrid army is here—"

"Klaus's hybrid army is _lurking_," Damon interrupts and Caroline doesn't miss his suspicious glance her way when she jerks at Klaus's name.

Stefan shoots his brother a glare before finishing, "We need more help."

"I called some relatives," Bonnie offers, leaning forward in her seat. "Should be here in a few days."

"Look at you, witchy," Damon drawls approvingly. "Being all helpful."

"Shut up, Damon," Bonnie snaps in return, eyes narrowed and Caroline jumps in before one of them tackles the other.

"Sam says he's going to talk to the demons," she offers, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and Damon's eyes suddenly hone in on her. She ignores it. "Lots of Big Bads coming our way so keep an eye out. Don't talk to strangers."

"Other hunters are coming too," Dean says flatly from his spot against the wall. "And a few disgruntled angels, but we can't count on too many of those."

"And this guy Loki," Caroline adds helpfully, shifting awkwardly under the weight of Damon's stare. "Like, as in the Norse god. Showed up at our house today."

There's an expression of slight awe on Elena's face. "The Norse god?" she repeats faintly. "For real?"

"He's a trickster," Dean says shortly. "He likes to mess with people. Plays pranks on them." He pins them with a warning look. "The deadly kind, so watch your back."

Elena flinches away and Damon's _still_ eying her like he's trying to read her mind no matter how hard she glares.

Shoulders tense, Caroline goes to the kitchen and rests her palms on the small island in the middle of the room. She leans against it and inhales, desperate for a single moment of peace.

She doesn't get it.

"You smell," Damon says in her ear and Caroline balks away from him, storming back to the doorway that leads to the living room.

"For your information, I showered an hour ago," she informs him sourly over her shoulder and his nose wrinkles.

"Unfortunately for you," he says pleasantly, reaching for a curl; she smacks his hand away, "it takes more than a few of those to get rid of the smell of _dog_."

Her heart stutters in her chest but she recovers quickly. "Did you eat someone with a brain tumor? You're losing it, Damon. Becoming delusional," she taunts back. "And I have no idea what you're talking about."

Damon holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, it's not like I give a single solitary shit what you do in your free time, Barbie. And you screwing around with the big bad wolf means he's not trying to drain Elena of all her blood, so as far as I'm concerned…" he leers at her. "Get you some."

"You're disgusting," she informs her coldly, turning away to focus on where the group is still discussing potential allies.

"Don't worry Barbie," Damon says lowly, leaning against the wall next to her and tilting his head towards her so his breath brushes over her ear. It makes her shudder. "I won't tell Elena or Judgy Macbeth over there about your _oh so bad_ nocturnal activities." It doesn't escape her that Stefan's name was not listed as someone Damon wouldn't tell.

"Bite me," she hisses at him and before he can reply, she adds, "And don't you dare say it, Damon. Wouldn't want you to get all _predictable_ on us."

He smirks at her and pushes himself off the wall they are standing against to go sit next to Elena. As she watches the actions with poorly concealed disdain, Caroline meets Stefan's eyes; and when he raises his eyebrows at her, she tilts her head slightly to the door before walking out of the room.

"What was that about?" Stefan wants to know as he sits down next to her on the Salvatore front steps.

Instead of answering, Caroline says carefully, "If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret? Even from Damon? Even from Elena?"

He stares at her curiously. "What's this about, Care?"

"_Can_ you, Stefan?" she presses, not answering. "Can you not tell anyone what I'm about to say?"

Something passes over his face but it disappears before she can analyze it. "Yeah, Care. I can keep your secret."

Caroline nods in acknowledgement but doesn't say anything—she half-wonders if he'll forgive her for this. After all, Klaus tore his relationship apart and forced him into Ripper-induced madness; and not for the first time, Caroline thinks sleeping with Klaus might have been the most selfish thing she's ever done.

When she stays silent for several minutes, Stefan prods gently, "You want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head. "You'll hate me."

"No, I won't."

"Yes you _will_," she insists, and when Stefan opens his mouth to continue arguing with her, she rips the Band Aid off and blurts out, "I slept with Klaus."

His mouth snaps shut and Caroline's face crumples. "I'm so sorry, Stefan," she whispers, one hand going to cover her mouth. "I'm so, _so_ sorry. I—It's just that my mom—and he was so _nice_—and I—and we—it just—" She stops and buries her face in her hands. "I'm a horrible, terrible friend and you have every right to hate me."

Stefan doesn't say anything and her heart plummets. "Please say something," she begs, eyes wide and mouth trembling. "Stefan, _please_."

He sighs and shakes his head, not looking at her. "I get it," he says quietly. "With your mom and everything that's been happening—I get it."

Caroline bites her lip and stares straight ahead. "Please don't tell Elena." She pauses. "Or Bonnie. _Please_ don't tell them, Stefan."

For the longest time he doesn't say anything and she presses her hand against his with more than a little urgency. "Stefan?"

He blinks as though lifted from a trance; when his eyes meet hers, he reassures her gently, "I won't say anything, Care. I meant what I said, back in the woods." He takes her hand and thumbs her lapis lazuli ring. "Whatever you decide, I'll be there for you."

She gives a small, guilty laugh and flashes him a watery smile. "Why are you such a good friend, Stefan?"

Stefan shakes his head, deflecting her question with a self-deprecating snort. "Kind of hard to judge after everything I've done," he says wryly, nudging her shoulder with his. "You're a good person, Caroline. I know that." She says nothing and Stefan sighs quietly. "But I don't think you do."

Caroline blows pieces of her hair off of her forehead as she exhales. "I kind of left him in my room," she admits sheepishly, drumming her fingers on her knee. "And when I got back he was gone." She sneaks a glance at him. "Think he's pissed?"

Stefan arches an eyebrow at her. "He's been hounding you for how long? Then he finally gets what he wants and you disappear the next morning?" He shrugs. "On a scale of one to rip out the hearts of everyone you've ever met—"

"Okay, it can't be that bad," she interrupts, poking at him. "It was a disappearing act after sex, not kidnapping his whole family, _Stefan_."

He looks down briefly but she catches his half-smile. "You should probably avoid any Originals for the time being. Or stay with Elena for a while."

"Can't do that," Caroline says immediately, brushing his suggestion off with a wave of her hand. "Sam and Dean live in my house too, remember?"

Stefan eyes her before sighing. "Look, Care. I can't really tell you how you should deal with Klaus, especially spurned lover Klaus." She makes a face at _lover_ but doesn't refute it (because what's the point, really). "Just try not to piss him off."

"Any more than I already have," she finishes for him in a mumble.

"By the way," Stefan says quietly, his eyes fixed on the tree line, "vampires are coming. Hordes of them." He shoots a look so quick over his shoulder that Caroline blinks and nearly misses it. "I guess Klaus made some phone calls."

She can't help the scoff that rises in her throat. "What, is he like their king or something?"

Stefan doesn't laugh like she was expecting him to. "No," he says thoughtfully, "but they listen to him. The Originals are the oldest and the first vampires, Care. They've got…" he trails off, still staring at the forest in the distance. "Sway."

Caroline wrinkles her nose. "Oh well then. Since they've got _sway_. Can't argue with that." She pauses before nudging him playfully. "Is that anything like swagger?"

… … … …

Caroline takes a deep breath and knocks on the doors to the sprawling Mikaelson mansion. Waits—one beat, two beats. She knocks again. No answer.

She toys with the idea of leaving, but as her brain is listing out the pros and cons, the door swings open and Rebekah yanks her inside.

"You stupid little harlot," she snarls and Caroline gasps in shock as the other girl's fingers wrap around her throat. "What did I tell you, Caroline? Hurt my brother and I hurt _you_."

"Rebekah!"

The next thing Caroline knows, Elijah is pulling Rebekah away from her and Caroline can only stare at him, tears of pain starting to well in her eyes as she touches her throat gingerly. "Do not fight Niklaus's battles for him," he scolds and Caroline winces, pressing herself into the wall and wishing she could disappear into it.

Rebekah's face has grown no less hateful as she storms away and Elijah says grimly, "He is not here."

It hadn't even occurred to her that Klaus might not be home. "Do you know when he'll be back?" she asks quietly and Elijah's eyes snap up to meet hers.

"Yes," he says shortly before turning away and the message is definitely received loud and clear.

"I'll just wait then," she whispers to the now empty front hall.

After an hour, she moves from the leather sofa in the living room to the art room, staring up at the Matisse he has hanging on the wall; an hour after that she winds up in his room, sitting on the floor next to his bed with her legs stretched out in her front of her and playing Angry Birds on her phone.

Finally, _finally_ Caroline hears his voice from downstairs and cold nerves start to swirl in her chest. Briefly, she considers standing—maybe making sure her hair isn't sticking up in weird places—but before she can move an inch, Klaus is standing in front of her, looking down with an unreadable expression on his face.

The first thing she notices is that he smells like blood—warm, fresh from the vein blood—and liquor and it makes her stomach roll. _Fantastic._

"You're mad at me," she says softly and his face doesn't change in the slightest.

"Hardly, darling," he drawls, walking away from her spot on the floor and tossing his jacket onto his sofa before dropping lazily next to it. He sets his feet up on the small table in front of him. There's a half-finished handle of whiskey sitting at his side and when he takes a drink, she tries to not look at the muscles moving in his throat. "I am utterly indifferent to you."

She looks down at her hands resting in her lap. "I—look, I don't regret it or anything, okay? It wasn't a mistake but it—it was a one-time thing, Klaus."

"If we're being technical, it was a three-time thing," he says, leering at her and she can feel her face turn red, "but semantics." Despite the easy amicability of his tone, warning bells start to sound in the back of her mind. He is taking this way too well—unless she overestimated her every interaction with him. Which could be a very real possibility—she's overestimated her worth to others before. "I've shagged you out of my system, sweetheart. Cheers." He tips the bottle towards her and she flinches slightly before climbing to her feet and making a beeline for his door.

"How did your friends take it, love?" he calls callously from the loveseat and she stops short, turning her head slightly but not looking at him.

"How'd they take what?" she asks cautiously, hand hovering over the doorknob and every muscle primed to run. She can finally pinpoint where she's heard this tone before—this taunting, terrible edge to his voice.

"You fucking the enemy," Klaus answers mockingly, the whiskey making a sloshing noise in the bottle and her back snaps into a straight line.

"Shut up," she says fiercely, wrapping her fingers around the doorknob and gripping it tightly. "Just _shut up_."

He's suddenly behind her, his chest pressing firmly against her back and her hand shakes as his fingers wrap around her wrist and pull her away from the doorknob. His hand slides over her own and his fingers lace through hers. "Does the truth hurt, then?" he murmurs in her ear, and her heart is beating a nervous tattoo against her chest. His free hand ghosts along her ribs. "Or did you not tell them?"

"Klaus, please _listen_ to me—"

He spins her around so that they are facing each other and she forces herself not to swallow nervously. "You are hardly in a position to ask me for anything, sweetheart." His nose is a hair's breadth from hers and his hands are gripping her upper arms just tightly enough to border on painful. "One night stands do not get to barter for favors, Caroline."

_One-night stands—_the nerve of him makes her choke. Caroline shoves at his chest, though it hardly matters—he doesn't budge, but it helps sate her desire to do him violence. "You're foul," she hisses back at him and a pleased spark appears in his eyes. "You _disgust_ me."

"There's a good girl," he growls, maliciousness tinting his feral grin before his nose goes to her neck, inhaling deeply.

"You're _horrible_—vile—disgusting—I _hate_ you—" all the worst things she can think of spill from her lips and he absorbs each blow, looking up at her with his eyes glinting and teeth bared. "Murderer, sadist, _evil_—"

"Oh don't stop now darling," he encourages darkly, fingers hooking in her belt loops and pulling her hips flush against him. Caroline stomps on his foot and he doesn't even flinch.

"The most selfish thing I've ever—after all the shit you've done—" She shuts her eyes briefly. "What do you want, Klaus? The scythe? Will that help with this stupid _tantrum_ you're having?"

He scoffs at her, the sound low and dangerous and she rambles on, "You can have it, you can do whatever you want with it after this is over—"

His fingers tighten and she bites back a wince. "Is that your brilliant plan, sweetheart?" he taunts and she shuts her eyes briefly at the bitter edge to his voice. "I can have the scythe instead of you, is that it?"

"Klaus—"

In the blink of an eye, he's closed the already minuscule distant between them, his nose brushing hers as his hips move slowly against her own; despite herself, she responds. His lips are this close to brushing hers before they graze across her jawline. "And what, darling Caroline," he whispers in her ear, the warmth of his breath nearly making her shiver, "is stopping me from having you both?"

Caroline fights the tremor that's threatening to dance its way down her spine. "Klaus, _please_—"

"You forget who I am, sweetheart," he scoffs derisively and she can't help the snort that escapes from her throat at that.

"As if that's possible," she retorts, shoving at him again. "You're the asshole who's made all of our lives miserable since you showed up and started slaughtering people we care about."

Caroline feels him smirk against her collarbone. "That didn't seem to stop you last night," he purrs and she pokes his side as hard as she can. He doesn't even have the good grace to pretend it hurt.

"Why is it like this with you?" she demands and he goes very still. "Two steps forward and a hundred giant leaps and freaking bounds back!"

"You _left_," he growls, all pretense of seduction vanishing as he pulls away to glare down at her.

Her fingers flutter to her forehead and she squeezes her eyes shut. "I—I had to think, Klaus. Everything's different and upside-down and my head's a mess and I had to be alone to _think _about it, okay? God, not everything is about you, you egotistical _dick_."

His expression doesn't change—no softening or flicker of understanding in his eyes and she tries once again to struggle free from the iron-like vise of his grip. And in the blink of an eye, the pressure is gone. He's halfway across the room, finishing off the remains of liquor in the bottle.

"It meant nothing," he says carelessly, waving her away. "_You_ mean nothing." He drops down onto his bed and arches an eyebrow at her. "And if you insist on staying, it had better be worth my while."

Caroline's eyes widen and she swallows back a bitter retort; it tears at her throat. "You can go to hell," she throws back at him, pushing the urge to cry so far down inside that it will never see the light of day. She doesn't wait to see his reaction, doesn't want to know if it's hurt or murder that flashes across his face.

She flees from the house as fast as her feet can take her.

… … … …

There's a truck in the driveway that Caroline doesn't recognize and it makes her muscles tense in suspicion as she climbs out of her car. Fingers tight on her house keys, she yanks open the door—and runs right into an invisible barrier. Confusion wrinkles her brow for half a heartbeat before she understands. A thread of grief wraps tightly around her heart before she exhales shakily and gathers her composure.

"Dean?" she calls into the open foyer. "Sam? A little help here?"

It's Sam who comes out of the kitchen and to her rescue. For a moment, he wears the same confused expression she had just discarded but when he glances down at the paper in his hand, his face clears. "Come inside, Care," he says quietly and the barrier blocking her from her home vanishes.

"Why did it take so long?" she asks, swallowing back the hurt—if Liz's death had been a single terrible blow, this was more a thousand tiny cuts. Her childhood home had rejected her—_again_.

Sam holds out the paper to her. "We got Liz's safety deposit box out of the bank," he explains, voice gentle as though she might bolt at any second. "The deed to the house was in her name. Now it's in Dean's."

"He had to notarize it. Who knew vamp rules were so particular about the letter of the law?" Dean quips from the doorway to the kitchen; Caroline sends him a small, grateful smile.

"Of course you're a notary," she says affectionately to Sam, and he grins back at her unabashedly.

"You must be Caroline," a new voice says from behind Dean and Caroline's smile drops. The strange truck had completely slipped her mind and she leans back on her heels at the sight of a gruff looking older man. He holds his hand out to her. "I'm Bobby."

Before Caroline makes a move to shake his hand, she glances over at Dean and Sam for confirmation. "He's okay, Care," Dean confirms and Sam nods reassuringly. Slowly, as though he might bite her if she moves too quickly, she extends her own hand.

"Nice to meet you," she says politely and he grins warmly at her.

"You're the spit of Liz," he says as he lets her hand go and she shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

Sam saves her. "Bobby's here to help us figure out a way to win this thing," he tells her and Dean snorts.

"Like we don't already know how to win," he says, shaking his head and Sam rolls his eyes at Caroline.

"That's not even Plan Z," Caroline admonishes Dean firmly. "So stop talking about it."

Dean snorts again and Bobby placates, "We're gonna look at all of our options, kids. Ellen and Jo are on their way—"

"What is with all these allies showing up out of nowhere?" Caroline demands of Sam, cutting Bobby off without even a whisper of apology. She's done thinking of others—has been done since she buried her mother. She shoots an accusatory glare Bobby's way. "Where were you when my mom was trying to fight off the freaking Host of Heaven with nothing more than her cop car and a gun?"

The brief guilt that flashes across Bobby's face almost makes her apologize, but the graphic memory of Liz crumpling lifelessly to the ground stops her. "It's great that the cavalry's here," Caroline allows flatly. "Really. But you're late."

"I know," Bobby says gravely, eyes downcast. "And I'll never stop bein' sorry for it."

At the anguish in his voice, Caroline forces herself to swallow down her guilt. Seriously though, where was all of this help—this guy and Klaus's vampire army and who the fuck ever Ellen and Jo are—when her mother—or even when Dean came back with haunted eyes and a terrible premonition?

She tries to smile at Bobby because she's really not this much of a bitch, not usually. But it falls off her face after a few seconds and he wasn't even looking anyway.

… … … …

As Bobby follows them in his truck over to the boarding house, Caroline wonders briefly if she should tell them about the scythe—that the solution to all of their problems is sitting hidden under Bonnie's mattress. She wages an internal war with herself—to tell and possibly quicken Dean's suicidal hell-path or to keep quiet and usher Matt on to a slow and painful death?

Caroline pulls Sam away from the group when they arrive and he follows easily, his forehead wrinkling in concern. "What's up?" he asks, and she does not fail to notice how weary he sounds.

"I wanted to tell you something," she says quietly, dragging him behind her into Stefan's room and shutting the door. She stands there with her forehead pressed against the wood for a brief second, listening for the sound of anyone coming after them. When there is only silence Caroline sighs and turns, resting her back against the door. "I have this thing, and it might be useful but I'm not sure and if it is useful, I don't even know if I want Dean to get his hands on it because that would make me an accomplice to his like kamikaze mission and—"

Sam holds his hands up, halting the torrent of words and prodding her to the point. "What do you have, Care?"

She takes a deep breath. "A weapon. _The_ weapon. Sam, I have Death's scythe." Her wide eyes sink into his and something she can't decipher flickers there. "And I can't tell him because—"

"One step closer to accepting Michael," Sam finishes for her, a faraway expression on his face.

Caroline's eyebrows burrow together and she says slowly, "He can't know, Sam."

"No," Sam agrees, one hand rubbing his forehead. "No, definitely not."

She stares at him, the beginnings of a frown straining at her face before she shakes her head and sticks her hand out. "Not telling Dean?"

Sam blinks as though she pulled him out of a trance and looks down at her hand before smiling slightly. "Not telling Dean," he agrees, shaking it. "I'll figure it out, Care," he says, more to himself than to her. "I'll fix it."

His voice is low and something in his tone makes her stomach turn uncomfortably but before she can dwell on it—

"Care! Sammy!" Dean hollers from the living room. Sam arches an eyebrow at her in mock irritation before leaving; she stares after him blankly for a brief second before heading after him.

Bobby is standing in front of the fireplace, hands folded grimly behind his back and his eyes downcast. "Tell them what you just told us," Dean orders, pointing at Sam and Caroline. "Tell them, Bobby."

Bobby heaves a sigh and doesn't look up. "Past few days, there have been thirty deaths up the Eastern seaboard."

"People die," Damon says coolly from his spot on the leather sofa. "Shit happens. So what?"

Dean glares at him and Bobby looks at him as though he is not worth the time of day—which Caroline happens to agree with, so you know, Team Bobby. Which, Caroline supposes, to everyone but Stefan and Elena—he's not. "People don't usually die in perfect health." His eyes narrow at Damon, who, to Caroline's surprise, shifts uncomfortably. "Perfect health, 'cept the dead part."

"Angels," Sam says grimly and it's not a question but Bobby answers anyway.

"Gotta be," he confirms with a grim nod of his head. "Everything else wants the world to continue existing. Everything that goes bump in the night's fightin' on our side, not theirs."

Caroline and Sam simultaneously look over at Dean, their heads swiveling in tandem and he grimaces. "Time's running out," he warns grimly, jaw clenching. "You gotta come up with a plan, Sammy or I'm taking matters into my own hands."

Bobby flinches. "You stop talking like that, boy," he orders brusquely. "I know John Winchester didn't raise a quitter."

"He didn't raise a coward either," Dean fires back and Caroline grits her teeth.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam snaps. "We all know how desperate you are to be a martyr; you don't have to put a countdown clock on it."

"Eat me," Dean retorts and Sam glares at him. "And don't give me the bitchface either, Sammy. I've seen it too many times for it to have power over me."

"Jerk," Sam mutters under his breath, folding his long limbs into a seated position on the couch. Dean frowns at him for several seconds before sitting on the opposite side.

"They always like this?" Bobby wants to know, raising an eyebrow at Caroline. She shrugs.

"Lately, yeah," she confirms tiredly, tugging absently at a strand of hair. "Battle of the Bulge, ya know?" Caroline tries for a saucy wink but falls so totally short; Bobby humors her with a strained smile.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "Inappropriate jokes when the chips are down. Kind of my thing."

Bobby shakes his head, smiling a bit easier. "Don't worry about it, kid." He motions to where Sam and Dean are sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, casting annoyed glances at each other. "I've dealt with Winchesters before."

The corners of her mouth tug upwards.

The tension in the room dissipates after a while—Stefan and Damon are speaking in low tones as Elena paces while Bonnie pours over the grimoire on her lap. Sam and Dean don't say anything and Caroline sits lifelessly between them on the leather sofa, bones cracking loudly as her body sinks down. Sam blinks worriedly at her.

"Get some rest, Care," he suggests quietly as she pulls her legs up underneath her. "It's been a long day." She blearily thinks he has no idea and stares unblinking at the fire flickering the fireplace.

Sam's ringing phone forces Caroline from her mesmerized staring at the Salvatore fireplace; her head feels heavy and warmth radiates around her from her spot in the middle of Sam and Dean. Sam shifts and Caroline stops fighting the sleep pulling at her muscles, resting her head against Dean's arm and letting her eyes flutter shut. From very far away, she hears Sam say suspiciously, "Who is this?" She burrows her nose into Dean's sleeve, falling further under the heady spell of near-sleep.

But then Sam jumps up as though he's been shot and Dean jerks in response. "S'going on?" Caroline mumbles irritably, rubbing sleep away from her eyes. "What's wrong, Sam?"

Sam's face is whiter than paper; whit his hand shaking, he presses the button for speakerphone.

"_Sam? Sam, where are you?_" a tinny female voice cries desperately through heavy static. "_Sam? I—I think I'm lost, it's so dark—_"

Forehead wrinkling in confusion, Caroline looks from Sam to Dean in frustrated exclusion. She tugs on Dean's sleeve and opens her mouth to ask just what exactly is going on when Dean reaches out for Sam's phone and hits the red End Call button. Sam doesn't move to stop him, only watches as though in shock.

"Who was that?" she asks in a whisper, eyes darting from Sam's ghostly pale face to Dean's tightly drawn one. When neither of them answer she repeats, voice cracking, "_Who_ was that?"

Sam finally looks over at her, his eyes haunted. "It was her," he says hoarsely. "It was Jess."

All of the air leaves her lungs—leaves the entire room, it feels like.

"That's not possible," she says flatly, staring at the phone in Dean's hand.

"Au contraire," Loki says brightly, swaggering in with an almost insultingly cheery spring to his step. "It is possible—but it's a trick."

Sam looks up, face pale and beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. "What do you mean?"

Loki shrugs and looks bored at the question. "It's a trick," he repeats, as though educating a group of kindergarteners. "Your girlfriend—that's who it was, wasn't it? She's fine. I mean," he shrugs, "she's still _dead_, but other than that she's doing okay up in capital H Heaven."

Sam's glassy eyes flicker at the mention of Heaven. "Jess is okay?" he repeats hoarsely and Caroline's heart tears a little at the hitch in his voice.

Loki's face does not soften but his eyes stay on Sam a little longer than necessary. "She's good, bro," he says assuredly, waving his hand in dismissal. "It's _Michael_." He spits the name out of his mouth. "He's messing with your brain, trying to drive you crazy. It's a tactic." He grins at them. "Not a good one, but he doesn't know I'm steering this ship now."

Castiel had been staring at Loki as though he represented a very complicated math problem that needs solving—and with Loki's explanation of the creepy phone call, Castiel's face changes.

"He's not Loki," Castiel announces gravely, eyes never leaving Loki's smirking face. "He has you all fooled."

The reaction of the room is instantaneous. Stefan's hands ball into fists and he moves slightly to stand in front of Elena. Bonnie's eyes narrow, the flames in the fireplace jumping; Damon shoots an unreadable glance over at Stefan. Dean doesn't move and Bobby's hand jerks towards the sawed off shotgun resting on the table.

Sam's eyes meet Caroline's and she blinks in surprise back at him.

"If he's not Loki then who the hell is he?" Dean demands, and all eyes turn to where Loki is standing, a biting grin splitting his face. He doesn't seem to care that he's been outed as an imposter.

"You know, I like you," not-Loki says to Damon, whose mouth twitches as though he doesn't know whether or not it's acceptable to laugh. "Too bad sass and spark don't always get the girl, hmm?" Damon's face turns stony and Elena turns a deep red.

"Quit stalling," Bobby growls irritably. "Who the hell are you?"

Loki grins at him. "I'm Gabriel," he says, perfectly pleasant as his eyes slide to Caroline. "You're way too pretty to be related to these lugs. What're you doing after the Apocalypse?"

Dean makes a strangled noise, but she ignores the petty flirtation. "Gabriel as in—"

"Yes, yes," he cuts her off impatiently. "The archangel. Oh don't be like that—" Caroline stiffens, stepping away from him and closer to a tense Sam. "I'm on your side, babe!"

She and Dean both bristle at 'babe' and Loki-Gabriel laughs delightedly. "See, this is why my idiot brother can't win," he declares brightly. "People are way too much fun." He winks at Caroline before turning back to the group. "You've done an okay job," he allows, pouring himself a glass of bourbon, "getting all the various nasties to help out. But you're gonna need way more firepower than a couple of jinni and some half-breed sired mutts if you want to beat Michael." He spreads his arms out. "That's what I'm here for."

"Why?" Sam demands, voice still gruff and hands still shaking. "What's it to you?" Before Gabriel can answer, Sam bites off, "If you're Gabriel, then Michael's your _brother_ and why wouldn't you be on his side?"

Caroline's eyes widen. "Michael's your brother?" she breathes, stomach dropping and heart sputtering. "Are you—are you spying on us?"

Gabriel snorts. "Trust me, kid, you haven't made a good enough impression on my big brother to warrant spying." And somehow being called kid makes her feel worse than babe. Ignoring her, Gabriel gestures to where Bobby is standing, bearded jaw locked in dislike. "I _like_ people—they're fun! Why would I want my big bro to destroy my favorite playmates?" He grins at Dean. "And Michael knows all it will take to get Dean-o here to agree to vesselhood is some death and destruction."

"And how the hell are you going to help us?" Stefan snaps and Caroline's head whips over to the other side of the room. In the span of three minutes, she had forgotten her friends were even present.

"I've got a plan," Loki—_Gabriel_ says easily, picking up the decanter on the table and sniffing the brandy inside. He half-toasts Damon with it. "Nice choice."

Dean's hands are fisting and Caroline takes a loose hold of his arm; the muscles are jumping and twisting under fingers. "Get on with it, Loco," he growls, voice gruff.

"Oh I can't tell you what it is yet," Gabriel says, waving a hand as though Dean is a pesky fly. His eyes fall on Sam and Caroline worries her bottom lip anxiously. "You'll just have to trust me."

… … … …

The vampires come in droves.

Seriously, they're like a twisted version of the Biblical locust plague, and the weird analogy is not lost on Caroline as she wrinkles her nose from the living room window.

"I don't like it," she whines, her foot tapping restlessly against the floor. "You really think Klaus can control _them_?" She gestures irritably at the flock that is currently traipsing down their street; there is another several yards back and behind them there is another—as far as she can see.

She didn't even know that there were this many vampires in the world, much less _America_. Jeez.

"I don't like it either," Dean mumbles from behind her shoulder; he's staring at the window as well, his face openly pained. "But the enemy of my enemy—"

"Uh, is totally still my enemy," Caroline cuts him off, arching an eyebrow at him. "Duh." She pulls herself away from the window and sits on the couch next to Sam, who immediately hands her a molding book that makes her sneeze. She rolls her eyes but flips it open and starts to skim.

Sam nudges her about ten minutes into her researching, his eyes locked on Dean over her shoulder. "The scythe," he says lowly, staring at her intensely. "You're sure it can kill Michael?"

Caroline bites her lip. "It's Death's Scythe," she replies levelly. "It's supposed to be able to kill anything."

Sam's eyes are fixed on her and Caroline's eyebrows knit together briefly. "What are you planning, Sam?" she whispers to him. "I want in."

A shadow passes over his face. "I'm not planning anything, Caroline," he says and she so, _so_ doesn't believe him.

… … … …

She's rummaging around the fridge for food—real food, not blood because sometimes all a girl needs is a slice of pizza to feel like everything's going to be okay, right?—when a shadow catches her eye outside.

Seriously? Why can't people just freaking _text_ her instead of creeping around outside of her house?

Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of Klaus standing on her front porch, hands folded behind his back and an unreadable expression on his face. Pushing away all of her trepidation, Caroline glares haughtily at him and crosses her arms. "What do you want?" She keeps her voice low and quiet—the last thing she needs is for either of her brothers to overhear their conversation and find out exactly what she's done with Klaus.

"I take it you saw the grand entrance last night?" he asks casually and the space between her eyebrows scrunches. "The vampires."

She crosses her arms and glares at him. "Kind of hard to miss."

He makes as though to enter and she hides a smirk when the invisible barrier forces him to stop. His eyes narrow at her. "I think you had better let me in, Caroline."

"Or what?" she challenges, not moving from her spot just inches away from him. "You'll huff and you'll puff and you'll blow the house down?"

He kinks an eyebrow at her and sizes her up before he says lightly, "Would you like to hear about the vampire clan that has sworn to kill your family?"

Her heart stutters. "You're lying."

"Perhaps. Is it a risk you're willing to take?"

Caroline snorts derisively. "I'm not letting you in, Klaus, so just say whatever it is you came here to say and then _go away_."

He sends her that charming-ass grin that she really, really hates right now and stays silent; gritting her teeth, Caroline shoots a nervous glance over her shoulder before stepping outside onto the porch. "This had better be good," she mutters threateningly; he leans in way too close and she glares at him again.

"You should ask your brothers about Luther," Klaus suggests, his hand pressed against the wall of the house over her shoulder. "And about Kate."

She narrows her eyes at him. "So that was your plan? Come over here, name drop and…what? Watch the fireworks?"

His face changes—softens, but she steels herself against it—fool me once and all that. "Caroline," he says, eyes imploring and she rolls her own because how stupid does he think she is to try and pull this on her? "We had a spat, love. I'm over it already."

"Congratulations," she snaps back at him. "I'm not. You can leave now."

"Care?" Sam says, the burr of sleep still clinging to his voice. "What's up?" The question may have her name on it but it's fully directed at Klaus. "Everything okay?"

Caroline looks down at her feet, her toes with their pretty pink polish curling under her arch like she did when she was a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She sees Sam standing at the doorway, his eyes suspicious and she tenses.

"Fine," she says quietly, tucking her hair behind one ear and not looking up at him. "Klaus was just leaving."

Klaus scoffs at her cowardice, low in his throat and the vibrations of it make her blush. She hopes Sam doesn't notice, but he went to freaking law school and Caroline doesn't have too much confidence in her poker face.

Sam waits until Klaus has completely disappeared from view—though Caroline wouldn't put it past him to hang around and eavesdrop like the stalker he is—before he says slowly, "You want to explain what's going on?"

"Not really," she offers with too-bright cheer and Sam looks like he's trying to fight off a smile. But still he sighs and waits and she is as equally powerless as Dean against that look.

"I did something," she skirts, shrugging and moving to the kitchen to pull a blood bag out of the fridge. Sam follows.

"Like…" he prods, leaning against the door way as she rips the top of the bag off and pours the contents into a mug for the microwave.

"Something stupid," Caroline says, setting the time and avoiding his eyes completely by watching the mug spin around as it warms. "That I don't want to talk about."

Sam's still looking at her like if he tries hard enough, he can see into her brain—and knowing Sam, he's probably memorized all the different meanings of body language. God, she hopes she doesn't give herself away—what if her fingers jittering across the countertop surface means _I totally had sex with Klaus_? She snatches her hand away and holds it still by her side.

"Like…" Sam repeats, raising an eyebrow at her and Caroline shrugs awkwardly.

"We had a thing," she says vaguely, reaching for the microwave door with .1 seconds left. She raises the mug to her lips and Sam echoes her slowly, "A thing."

Caroline shifts her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Um. Yeah. You know. Like…a thing."

Understanding sparks in Sam's eyes and he rubs his forehead in what looks to Caroline to be exasperation. "You picked _now_ to decide to take a walk on the wild side, Care?" he asks and she chews on her bottom lip.

"I just—"

Sam shakes his head, cutting her off and putting his hands on her shoulders. "You don't have to explain to me, Care." His face briefly takes on a far away look and Caroline's fingers tighten around her mug. "I get it," he says quietly, "but your timing sucks." He cracks a smile. "No pun intended."

She doesn't return the smile. "I wish Mom were here," she whispers, turning her face from Sam and letting him pull her into a near bone-crushing hug. "I miss her _so much_, Sam."

Her ear is pressed against Sam's chest and she feels him sigh before she hears it; feels his chest vibrate as he says, "I know." The beating of his heart is comforting in steadfastness—a reminder that she still has Sam. Just like she still has Dean.

Which reminds her.

"Who's Kate?"

Sam's arms tense around her, and that is _so_ not a good sign. "What?"

"Kate. He—" no need to elaborate on who _he_ is, "said that a vampire named Kate was planning to get revenge on you and Dean. And something about some dude named Luther." She pauses before tilting her face up at Sam. "So who are they?"

Sam's arms drop from her and he scratches uncomfortably at his ear. "Uh. Yeah. Kate. And uh…Luther. You know, you should ask Dean about that one."

"Dean's freaking out about Michael," Caroline reminds him. "Just tell me, Sam. I'm a big girl."

He studies the ground as he says, "Okay, look. Luther and Kate were—are vampires. Well, Kate is. Luther's dead."

"Be more vague, Sam," Carline says sarcastically.

"Look, Luther and Kate were a couple," Sam says, "and Dad killed Luther. So I guess…Kate's pissed." He shrugs. "Nothing's going to come of it though. She can't kill Dean because Michael would just bring him back and Cas has our backs, so don't worry about it, Care."

She's so not convinced; especially because Sam's not looking at her and that's totally his tell. "Sam—"

"This is touching," Gabriel says amusedly, "but we have bigger things to talk about, Sam." He jerks his head towards the living room and presumably to the door.

Sam doesn't move for a second and Caroline says with more than a little dread, "What's going on, Sam? What's this plan he's hatched up and why do you trust him?" Her voice pitches upward towards the end. "Michael's his _brother_, why would he betray him? We would never do that to Dean, so why—"

"I just do," Sam says sharply and Caroline flinches away from him slightly. Gabriel flashes her a pitying look in a rare moment of seriousness before he says lightly, "Time to go, Sammy Boy."

And Sam walks out the door with him.

Caroline doesn't miss a beat. "_Dean!_" she screeches, racing for his bedroom door and pounding desperately. "Dean, wake up!"

The door slams open and his hair is sticking up in every direction. "Yeah?" he grumbles, blinking sleep away.

"Sam left with Gabriel," she rushes out, her hands shaking as she tries to clench them by her sides. "Dean, Sam _left_ with Gabriel!"

Dean groans. "Seriously, Care? They're doing some weird nerd research thing. Sam already told me about it, quit freaking out."

"Why do you believe that?" she snaps at him.

Dean stares at her in such disbelief it would be funny if she didn't have this horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. "Because Sam's a _nerd_."

She grips the collar of Dean's shirt. "Dean. Gabriel is Michael's _brother_. Why are you assuming he wouldn't do whatever he could to save his brother?" She takes a step closer, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. "Why are you assuming he and Michael aren't like you and Sam?"

Dean stares at her and she can see the thought turning over and over in his mind. She presses on, "Hasn't Gabriel tried to kill you tons of times or something? Pulled really dangerous tricks on you?"

"That makes no sense," Dean argues. "If Gabriel is on Michael's side, then why would he keep trying to kill us?" Before she can answer, Dean hollers, "Cas! Get your winged ass down here!"

There's a flutter and Castiel says irritably, "I'm doing important things, Dean. What is it?"

"Gabriel," Dean says shortly. "Can we trust him?"

Castiel tilts his head, an enigmatic expression on his face. "No," he says bluntly. "You cannot. But he does want Michael defeated."

"How can you know that?" Caroline demands but Castiel just looks at her.

"Anna," he says simply and Caroline sucks in a breath—so that's why she's been MIA for so long. "Michael trusts her—as much as he can trust anyone." He takes a step forward. "He is not happy about his brother's allegiance to humanity. Gabriel will not betray you."

Dean's face relaxes. "See, Care? Nothing's wrong. You're freaking out for nothing." He bumps her shoulder with his own, already glancing longingly back at his bed. "Go to sleep. It's fine."

Castiel disappears in the blink of an eye, Dean shoos her out of his room and still Caroline is not comforted.

Something is still wrong and she can feel it in her bones.

… … … …

Something is wrong with _her_.

It eats at her, gnawing at her heart and itching at her brain, and whatever it is, she knows it's big—something has knocked the universe off balance.

But she can't figure out what it _is_.

She stares at herself in the bathroom mirror, the dark circles ever-growing under her eyes, and reaches forward to turn the faucet. Maybe if she scrubs very hard, like her mother taught her when she was nine and Sam had the flu, she can clear her head.

The water is warm and the soap smells like vanilla—her mom's attempt at making the house normal: scented soaps and fruity shampoo. Caroline inhales the scent deeply as she dries her hands, ignoring the growing feeling inside of her that's got the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

Taking another deep, steadying breath as her stomach rolls and tosses like she's on a fucking boat or something, Caroline squares her shoulders and reaches for the door handle—

—and promptly collapses on the floor.

Her insides are _churning_, acid rising in her throat and the contents of the blood bag she had practically inhaled force their way up her esophagus. She moans a little as she pushes herself up on her elbows—maybe this is some weird vampire food poisoning? Yeah, that's gotta be it—and nearly collapses on the toilet as she forces the seat up. She'll be grossed out later, she decides, once she vomits up this O neg—she _knew_ it tasted rank going down.

There's a knock at the door. "Care?" Dean calls through the door, "You okay?"

She wipes at her mouth with her sleeve, wincing as it comes back bloody, and starts to respond before another wave of intense pain grips her. The doorknob rattles and her heart is going way, _way _too fast. Black dots her vision and she coughs, curling into herself on the bathroom floor.

Dean's voice sounds as though he's underwater—or maybe she is, but her head is too heavy and her limbs are too numb to reach out for him. But familiar arms lift her and she can smell the Impala, so she stops fighting the darkness encroaching on her peripheral vision.

She has no idea how much time passes but the last time her eyes were open, there was nothing but black outside the living room window and now there is sunlight. Caroline coughs and almost instantly Dean is standing over her, hands wrapping around her elbows to help her sit up.

"What happened?" she mumbles, reaching up to push her hair out of her face before meeting Dean's eyes. He doesn't say anything and her heart—

Something is wrong, but—

"Did Sleeping Beauty finally wake up?" Damon snarls right before he lunges at her. But before he can get anywhere near her (she's already throwing herself backwards but what the fuck, why can't she speed away), Dean is muscling him out of her room and shouting furiously down the hall, "Control your shit of a brother, Stefan!"

"What the _hell_?" she cries, still scrambling backwards. "Dean, what is going on? Why are the Salvatores here? Did you invite _Damon_ inside?" Her voice is reaching a squeaky high decibel. "Dean, what _happened_?"

Dean sighs, the anger leaving him all at once. "Care," he says quietly, "You—"

"Caroline?"

Her entire body stiffens and her terrified eyes fly up to meet Dean's. Matt—Michael, _Michael_, not Matt—is peering inside, except Michael doesn't _peer_, that's one hundred percent Matt Donovan and she would know because how many times did those eyes peer into hers—

She cannot _breathe_.

And she realizes with a desperate lurch of her stomach that she needs to.

… … … …

**tbc.**

* * *

**A/N**: Feel free to follow me on tumblr at **little-miss-sunny-daisy**. I would love a review if you have the time.


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